Masked in Mystery
by Yaji's Girl
Summary: One innocent suspect. Two angry wives. Three sons caught in this case involving a man, a mask, and a Saiyan or two.
1. Chapter 1

**I know, I'm acting like a bad kid right now. This is three stories I have up at the same time (if the Yaji one-shots count), but this idea just hit me this morning. And this is doubly-bad, considering this is very, very much centered around main characters. Yes, yes, I'm bad, but I promise that this'll only be a few chapters. I've never written a mystery before, and I hope that this intrigues you guys. As usual... enjoy!**

Rays of sunlight shone through the window blinds of one of the many living spaces of the Capsule Corporation building, streaks of light illuminating the plush carpet of the floor. The mounted television droned on, set to a low volume so that it was merely mumbling that could be heard. A few kittens were tussling at the foot of an overstuffed sofa, pouncing on top of one another and running about madly in the early morning. They continued at this until the room's overhead lights flickered on, brightening the dim space and sending the critters off to scamper in the direction of the central conservatory.

The perpetrator of the room's darkness was none other than Bulma Briefs, her blue hair tangled and a scowl on her pretty face. Age had been kind to her, but the night hadn't. She grumbled quietly as she shuffled further into the room, placing her hands firmly on the back of the sofa and glaring at the television. That child of hers was always leaving electricity going even when she explained that, though it may have seemed like they had an endless supply of money, resources were still not to be wasted. And so she stooped down in her white bathrobe and snatched the television remote from one of the cushions, lumpy from one too many a Saiyan having sat on it, and made to shut off the thing.

But before she could so much as press the red button to turn off the television, she lowered her hand and watched as the program made the transition from commercials to a news broadcast. She frowned, her brief anger towards her son disappearing as she realized that he hadn't been the one watching television. At ten years old, Trunks was interested in cartoons, not the news. She wondered for a moment just who might have been watching the news late last night, though she quickly realized who it must have been.

Vegeta, strangely enough, had taken to watching the news channels lately. He had let up on his training some after the Majin Buu incident, instead devoting himself to more worldly things. So every once in a while he would simply plop down on the sofa, a reason of just why it was so lumpy, and spend his night watching men argue over some of the most senseless things. The matter that really got to him was the matter of politics, something that had interested Bulma at first. But after hearing him go on and on for the umpteenth time about how ridiculous it was to have a dog for a king or how absurd the division of the planet into forty-three sectors was. Why forty-three? Not even Bulma could answer that question.

And this had become his newfound obsession. After realizing that fighting wasn't really getting him anywhere, he had decided that debating over politics was his next big thing. Bulma, however, had had enough. It had been too long since she had even seen him step into the Gravitational Room, something that she deemed strange, and she had finally confronted him the night before about this. But he had gotten so worked up over his request to get over this new obsession that, after throwing a few unkind words in her direction, he stormed off and took to the sky. And thus, she hadn't gotten much sleep that night, therefore looking rather haggardly in the morning.

She grimaced slightly, prepared to turn off the mumbling television as a few anchormen talked of some new construction projects over in East City. But before she could try pressing the power button, the television blared sirens as loud as it could on such a low volume, ending up with a rather unimpressive squeak. But it shocked her enough to lower her hand once more, watching as the words 'Breaking News' flashed on the screen. She clenched her teeth together and felt her grip tighten on the remote, subconsciously turning the volume up.

_"King Furry has been kidnapped. I repeat, King Furry has been kidnapped, as confirmed by the police."_

Bulma felt her jaw drop a little as she watched pictures of their alleged king pop up on the screen, and her knuckles turned white with the force she was gripping the remote with. This certainly wasn't news she was expecting, not at this time of the morning. Barely eight o'clock on a Saturday, and already, somebody was planning on taking over the world.

Of course, this had happened so often that her surprise vanished quickly enough, leaving her to wonder just who the kidnapper was. Probably not a monster, she thought, like Buu or Cell. They didn't have to hold the king hostage to take over the world, seeing as they were powerful enough to destroy it on a whim. But it had to be somebody smart, somebody brainy enough to be able to get past security and be able to get his hands on the king. And so, she was utterly surprised when she saw who was on the screen.

_Mighty Mask?_

A picture of the fighter in his signature teal hood with a white tunic on, wearing those atrocities that were his yellow gloves, appeared along with a narration. _"The known kidnapper is a World Martial Artist finalist named Gary Ripley, assuming the alias of Mighty Mask whenever in the ring. There are several pieces of footage, caught by the castle's security cameras, that show this criminal at work at four o'clock this morning. King Furry wasn't found to be missing until two hours later."_

And several clips had been hashed together, all showing a rather bulky man running through some of the thinner corridors of the castle with surprising finesse. But there was more to the report as the news anchor continued,_ "Police stopped by Mr. Ripley's home after this incident to see if he might have returned there, only to find him still in bed, rather disoriented. He is now in custody, denying all involvement in the kidnap."_

Denying all involvement? A part of Bulma believed him, though a part of her didn't want to. If he wasn't involved in this crime, then he had been framed. And at that moment, what struck her was that his disguise could easily be worn by many people, being such a mysterious one. Even two little kids had managed to wear the costume and get away with it, she snorted with disbelief as she stood there, very rigid. Trunks and Goten at the Twenty-Fifth World Martial Arts Tournament, only two years ago, had gotten away with the disguise in front of hundreds of thousands of people... Her son... and Chi-Chi's son...

At that moment, Bulma felt her blood boil very quickly. She wasn't an idiot, and she could fit two pieces together. After all, who could be so stupid as to dress up as a masked warrior in an attempt to take over the world? Only a pair of kids, she was certain. So, as soon as she managed to unlock herself from this rigid position, she turned away from the television with the remote still in hand and yelled hoarsely at the top of her lungs, _"TRUNKS!"_

She crossed her arms across her chest furiously, knowing that this conclusion had to be true. Though, when she thought about it, would Trunks really be here if he had participated in the kidnapping of Earth's king? Probably not. But she still waited for a moment, deciding to give him a minute to come down, though she doubted he would. She was surprised, then, to see the ten-year-old run into the room a bit breathlessly, exhausted after having been awoken by her screeching.

"M-mom?" he stuttered uncertainly, standing up straight and looking up at his looming mother. He brushed some of the purple hair out of his eyes, messy from having made such a hasty entrance, and he watched her both wearily and warily. It was never a good sign to have his mother call for him so angrily, but he did notice her angry expression dissolve into one of slight astonishment. His father had obviously trained him well, teaching him that slacking off was unacceptable on any term. But she was also relieved, glad to see that her son hadn't been the one to kidnap King Furry, unless he had the poor dog in his room. But Trunks didn't seem to have just kidnapped Earth's leader, as he let out a tiny yawn, trying to hide it from his mother in fear that she would lash out at him if he so much as breathed.

Bulma only leered down at the ten-year-old for a few more seconds before deciding that she couldn't be so harsh on him when his eyes shone with innocence. In a loud and demanding voice, she asked, "Have you heard anything about this?" It was easier to keep the anger out of her voice than she had anticipated as she pointed to the television, gaining Trunks' attention for the first time all morning. It would be better to go about this in a roundabout way rather than to accuse him straight away and make him defensive. He only furrowed his thin eyebrows slightly, his nose wiggling a little as he examined the picture of Mighty Mask and listened to the anchorman.

"No, I've been asleep," Trunks replied, giving a little nonchalant shrug as he crossed his arms, assuming a position so like his mother's. It was Mighty Mask up on the screen, somebody who he vaguely remembered having taken the costume from to fight in the World Martial Arts Tournament. But why would Mighty Mask kidnap the king? Suddenly, even this early in the morning, Trunks' interest was piqued. This Mighty Mask guy was obviously cooler than he remembered him being. He wanted to find out exactly who he was.

His mother huffed a little, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth. She didn't even notice as Trunks slipped off, eager to get away before the interrogation lengthened. He was determined to find out who Mighty Mask was, deciding that he would visit Goten later that day so they could play the good guys again. But Bulma ignored the retreating boy as she turned around, resting the palms of her hands once more on the back of the sofa. She sighed and rewound the clip with the remote, pausing it on an image of Mighty Mask running away with the King Furry. It couldn't possibly be Trunks or Goten, she deduced quickly by looking at his thick arms. But the picture was too grainy for any other details to be picked out that could help her know exactly who had dressed up as the failure of a martial artist.

A wave of fear passed over her as she wondered if this could be Vegeta. The height was about right, and Vegeta's arms were large, though it was hard to tell whether the imposter's arms were large due to muscle mass or simply fat. Probably the prior, with the ease that he was carrying King Furry. And the pointy tunic would provide an ideal place for Vegeta's pointy hair to hide. But Bulma found it difficult to believe that Vegeta would dress up in a stupid costume like that one to overthrow the government, no matter how obsessed he was with politics now. Knowing him, it would be far more likely that he would appear and blow the whole palace to smithereens, though Bulma knew he would never do that. Why would he proclaim himself the king of all Earthlings when he was already the Prince of all Saiyans? Vegeta would never degrade himself in such a way, a relief as much as it was an insult.

The front door burst open, and Bulma's finger instinctively twitched, turning the television off by pressing the power button. She dropped the remote on the lumpy cushion, knowing who this had to have been, simply by the ferocity with which he forced open that automatic door. And she was right, she realized, as she heard him growl from a few rooms down the hallway, "Stupid contraption..."

Hearing his voice reawakened the dormant anger within, and she made it her business to stomp down the tiled hallway barefoot, not even taking into account that she was supposed to be pestering Trunks at the moment. No, Vegeta had definitely gone too far this time, what with her getting no sleep the night before. He hadn't even come in to check on her, so enraged by her view on his desire to discuss politics. But she believed she had a right to be angry, and now she had a dollop of fear thrown on top. What if he was Mighty Mask? Had he spent that night kidnapping the king?

When she made her way from the hallway to the front room, she saw him shooing away a robot that was trying to take his coat off, something that she found bizarre. Never before had she seen this jacket on him, though it did look fairly familiar. It was made out of tweed and had a plaid pattern across it, very simply looking, though it looked extremely strange on him. It was too large for him, and it trailed down almost to his knees, the sleeves having been pulled up to his midarm. But she was too frightened as he glared at her to question him right off the bat. Instead, she simply stood her ground and crossed her arms once more, muttering, "Vegeta."

"Bulma."

It hadn't been until recently that he had really started to use her first name, something always catching her off-guard. But she remained firm as she watched him kick the pitiful robot away, finally knocking it into the wall to keep it from bothering him and succeeding in breaking it. She gave a tiny grunt of disapproval but said nothing about it, instead asking, "Where have you been all night, mister? I've been worried out of my mind!"

He watched coolly as he approached him, waggling her finger rather condescendingly. "It's none of your business," he finally retorted, about to shrug the coat off himself but thinking better of it. Instead, he decided to simply readjust the red sash around his waist that tied it in place, its ill fit being less recognizable because it had been tightened around his rather small body.

Vegeta attempted to get past Bulma only to have her block his way and say, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where do you think _you're_ going?"

"To bed," he answered abruptly, and not even his most terrifying leer did anything to stop her. She was determined to get the truth out of him, even as tired as he looked. Her sympathy didn't stretch so far as to be offered to the Saiyan.

"I don't think so," she snapped, daring to grab him by the front of that ridiculous coat he had on, trying to think of where she had seen it before. He scoffed, turning away as she hissed, "Do you have any idea of how badly I slept last night?"

"At least you slept."

And that was true, something that Bulma couldn't argue with even though it had been only for a few hours. But she couldn't let Vegeta win, not after how he misbehaved the previous night at dinner. "I didn't sleep well."

"That's your fault," he said without hesitation, pushing past her quite effortlessly.

_"VEGETA!"_ she exclaimed furiously as she lunged forth and clasped on to his shoulder, determined to get some answer out of him. "Where were you last night? Why weren't you here?" Then, without meaning to, she asked, "You kidnapped King Furry, didn't you?"

Vegeta halted at this accusation, only turning his head around to meet her faded blue eyes. And he opened his mouth as if to say something, though he settled with just leering at her for a moment before saying, "I'm going to sleep. You may join me or not."

Bulma clenched her teeth at this choice he was giving her, finally giving in. "Fine, but you have to tell me something. Are you Mighty Mask?"

His expression, contorted with frustration, relaxed slightly as he replied, "No." Her jaw was set, not surprised by the lack of hesitation in such a response. Vegeta wasn't hesitant on anything, something that was of no help. He could either be Mighty Mask and have had such an answer prepared, or he could not be Mighty Mask and have been genuine in what he said. But Bulma was not in a place to negotiate, finally deciding that there was really no decision to be made but to believe him. And so she snuffed a bit angrily, storming past him and clearly making her way to their bedroom.

He took advantage of this anger, this eagerness to get back in bed on her part, and crept back into the kitchen. There, after glancing around, he pulled the hideous frock-like coat over his shoulders, tossing the heavy thing to the ground easily. It revealed a large, deep slash into his shoulder blade, and he cursed slightly to himself as he pulled the first-aid kit out of one of the drawers. There was a reason why, apart from the future version of his son, he had never liked swordsmen. And this was it.


	2. Chapter 2

**A lot more chatter in this chapter than I usually include, but I hope you enjoy! I must warn you readers that red herrings lurk around every corner!**

Gohan felt his breath shudder slightly as he leaned forward, resting his forehead in his hand. He only shook his head a little while his mother went on behind him with her rants, muttering to herself, "Where could he have gone? He just up and disappeared, like nothing!" And that was when she flung her arms out, the ladle in her hand splattering bits of stew everywhere, a droplet finding its way on the edge of Gohan's textbook.

_"Mom!" _he exclaimed, grimacing as he looked at the splotch. He lunged for the damaged textbook and examined it, flipping the page by its blotchy corner. He was relieved to see that it hadn't seeped to other pages and quickly caught a rag that his mother tossed him, having grabbed it from the kitchen sink. He began dabbing at the sheet of paper, immediately feeling guilty as he glanced up to see his mother's apologetic expression. She was stressed out, he knew, but her stress was only stressing him out. And that was something he didn't need, not when he had college exams coming up.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, glancing out the window and putting the ladle on the counter so as to prevent any other messes. She placed her hands to her hips after wiping them with her apron. "It's just that your father's getting on my nerves."

And it was true, and though she tried saying so angrily, it was also said with a begrudging worry for the man. Apparently, he had disappeared in the middle of the night last night. Chi-Chi claimed to have seen Vegeta standing in the bedroom window, beckoning for 'Kakarot' to come, but Gohan attributed that detail to her probably having nightmares about the Saiyan. He still frightened even Gohan at times, as unpredictable as he was.

But at that moment, while his mother mused to herself over just what could have happened last night, Gohan's sensitive ears picked up some cheery whistling. He automatically flinched, knowing that if his father was coming back, he had to prepare for the worst from his mother. Chi-Chi's fury may have been ebbed for the time being, but as soon as Goku entered the house, a one-sided screaming match would ensue. So Gohan decided to take this time to gather up his books and papers and writing utensils. He crept stealthily out of the kitchen after his mother had turned around to tend to the stew, making his way down the hallway and into his bedroom.

He dropped all of his books on his bed and immediately began reorganizing them, placing the sheets of homework assigned with each class by their respective textbooks. There were twelve classes in all, something that even Gohan was having difficulty handling now. There just wasn't enough time in his day to study, a problem that he had never encountered before. The counselors had tried getting him to take a smaller course load, claiming that even ten different classes, each several times a week, would be better than the mess he had signed up for, but when he was this far into the semester, he couldn't think about just dropping some. But he still couldn't help but regret this decision, especially after he had just become engaged to Videl only a month ago. Lousy timing, he attributed his luck to.

At that moment, he was too on-edge to get any real studying done. With the knowledge that his father was going to come home and his mother was going to start screaming, he decided to not even start absorbing information. Instead, he crawled over his tiny, twin-sized bed, too small for his tall frame now, and placed his hands on the window sill, not really caring about whether he was crushing Molecular Biology or Calculus at the moment. He smiled placidly as the noon sun's warm rays beat down on his face, and without a second thought, he slid the glass window up to allow the day to bring itself into his small room. But he had forgotten to gage the wind, which was very blustery on this particular day, and within a matter of second his newly-organized homework was scattering about his room.

Gohan scowled at the chaos, but before he could amend things by closing the window and placing his homework back on his bed, there was a low, pitiful cry that he heard from outside. He froze and listened to it once more, almost a gurgling sound, before he leapt out of the open window, landing skillfully on his two bare feet. He concentrated on the noise as it sounded again, a little fainter this time around. The demi-Saiyan frowned as he pinpointed its location from the forest edge, and he carefully made his way towards it. He pushed away some of the lower tree branches and made his way through the untamed brush, surprised when he saw just who it was.

It was Icarus.

It had been a few weeks since Gohan had seen the purple dragon from his boyhood, very much the same size it had been when he had found it. He had always supposed that dragons aged far more slowly that Saiyans and humans so that they may live longer, but they were both finally about the same size, height-wise. Gohan usually would have smiled and pet the thing, it chirping back in delight, but something was obviously wrong. Icarus was laying on his side, his pale belly exposed and glinting with the occasional sunlight that peeked through the forest canopy. Gohan kneeled down by his childhood friend and whispered, "Hey, boy. What's wrong?"

But he was forced back as Icarus gave an involuntary swing of its powerful tail, so distressed by its pain. And then, as the dragon shifted a little, Gohan could see just what was bothering it. There was a large, dark bruise on Icarus' side, and as Gohan bent closer to examine it, it went so far as to give a warning bite in the air for him not to come closer. So Gohan gave up on inspecting the injury, deciding to only watch the pained thing. He was stumped. What could bruise dragon hide? He supposed that his friend could have fallen from a height, but the bruise looked too precise, what with there being no other signs of bruising. It almost looked as though something had attacked the dragon purposely.

Gohan shook his head slightly before standing up. "I'm going to help you," he tried comforting the dragon, only to get another low groan from the thing. But he stooped down, and before Icarus could do a thing to stop him, he picked the dragon up over his head, wincing a little with its weight. Certainly, he may have had the strength to pick up ten of these dragons, but it didn't make this one any less heavy. He hadn't been keeping up with his training since Buu, something he regretted slightly. But he still managed to make his way through the forest, having already cleared a path earlier.

When he reached the edge, he grunted a little but pressed himself on, the dragon feeling heavier with each step. He considered turning Super Saiyan just for this menial task, but he knew that it would only attract his father's attention, and he was in no hurry to get his mother angry right away when he needed her help. So he trudged forth with the dragon over his head until he reached the front door, at which point he set Icarus down. Then, with his lungs swelling with relief, he yelled, "Hey, Mom! Will you come out here?"

And it only took a few seconds before Chi-Chi was in sight, prepared to do anything to defend her first baby boy as she asked, "What-" But she stopped mid-sentence and crossed her arms, the dripping ladle in hand as she narrowed her eyes. Then, grumpily, "What did I tell you about bringing Icarus home? I said that he could live out in the forest and you could visit him there, but I believe that I explicitly said not-"

"Do we have any Senzu Beans left?" Gohan urged, brushing away her lecture of how he was never to bring the dragon to the house. And he saw his mother's suspicious expression fade as she grasped the severity of this situation.

She scoffed, though in a gentler tone than she had just been using, "I don't know, Gohan. I don't think so, considering that all your father has been doing lately has been complaining about how there's been a dry spell in the Sacred Land of Korin." She sniffed a little indignantly at these last words, unable to respect any place that got more attention from her husband than she did. It was almost as bad as Vegeta and his fixed obsession with politics now, as Bulma had described it to be.

Gohan released a sigh as he looked down at his friend, who had just released another rather pitiful growl. "Do you think you can help me take care of Icarus, Mom? He's got a really bad bruise, and, well..." He didn't want to confess that he had no idea of how to deal with injuries, something that every fighter should have known. For him, it had simply been the business of finding a Senzu Bean and popping it into somebody's mouth that was important.

Chi-Chi smirked knowingly, realizing just the dilemma her son was in. But she wasn't about to gloat about how important it was to know how to actually take care of somebody, only demanding with a jerk of her head, "Take him around the side of the house, over near where the kitchen window is so I can keep a close eye on him. I'll tend to him after I finish this stew."

"Thanks, Mom," Gohan said, a little surprised that his mother had actually obliged to caring for the nuisance of a dragon, as she liked to call it. She headed back in to give the meal another stir and dash of salt, leaving Gohan to pick the overweight dragon up, trying to ignore the soft cries it emitted. He clenched his teeth, determined to help his friend, even if it meant slacking off on his studies for an afternoon.

After setting Icarus down once more on the grassy lawn, this time with Chi-Chi giving him a little wave of acknowledgment through the window, Gohan winced. His father was whistling again and was rather close, probably close enough for his mother to pick up on if she had been listening for it. It seemed as though Chi-Chi had forgotten her husband for the moment, for some reason or another overjoyed at the prospect of having somebody to take care of again. After all, she had always loved babying her children, but even Goten had escaped her controlling grasp at the age of nine, getting out of it far sooner than Gohan ever had been able to.

But this idle happiness on her part didn't last long, as she did quickly pick up on her husband's whistling. She slammed the ladle down on the table and stuck her head out the window, Gohan still standing there, and they both looked down the same direction. And, surely enough, a certain Goku's head popped over the hill, a large, blue fish being dragged along on a stick behind him. And he waved, a goofy smile on his face. Gohan could only shake his head at his father's naivity, wondering if it would be safe to run now before his mother started on his father. But it was too late, he realized, as Chi-Chi nearly fell out of the open window with how far she was leaning out. She shook a fist of fury through the air as she yelled, "_GOKU!_ Where have you _been_?"

"Fishing!" was the only reply, accompanied by a round of light laughter. That was enough to get Chi-Chi to pull herself back into the window and bring herself outside properly, going out the front door. And there she stood, hands on hips, her feet spread in a defiant stance.

Goku continued waving, oblivious to his wife's anger as he lugged the giant fish along easily. Chi-Chi only grimaced, prepared to give the man the flogging of his life, and Gohan watched hesitantly, cringing at the thought of how much screaming would pass within only the next few minutes. But as if to save him, the one phone in the kitchen began ringing, distracting Chi-Chi for the moment. She didn't go for the bait, however, instead yelling, "Gohan! Pick up the phone! I've got some business with your father to deal with!"

And he watched for a second as his mother made her way down the sloped hill, pulling her sleeves up furiously. His attention was torn away, however, as the phone gave another shrill ring. He glanced cautiously down at the maimed Icarus, who only groaned softly once again, before pulling himself through the kitchen window and reaching out for the wireless phone, which was conveniently sitting at a distance close enough for him to reach. And still hanging over the window, he pressed the green button and grunted with his gut squished a little, "This is the Son residence. What can I do for you?"

He slid back to his feet as a familiar voice asked, "Gohan? Are you all right?" It was Bulma, sounding a little concerned for the man. But even he wasn't certain of whether he was fine or not as he nearly dropped the phone, hearing the first burst of yelling on his mother's part.

_"_GOKU!_ You're on my last nerve! Do you have any idea of just how worried I've been about you? I was-"_

"I'm fine," Gohan lied through gritted teeth, trying to turn away from the scene of his mother chastising his all-too-innocent father.

"What's that noise in the background?" Bulma asked curiously.

_"-laying in bed last night, trying to sleep and you took off! What did I do to deserve that? I wash the dishes, I cook, I clean, I basically slave over you, and-"_

"It's nothing - Mom's just mad at Dad, you know." He chuckled a little nervously, cupping the receiver with a hand to his mouth so as to get his words across the line better. Then, a little more seriously, he asked, "What do you need, Bulma?"

"Well, to get right down to it... Have you watched the news today?"

"No," Gohan replied, as they didn't even have a television out here, something that Bulma often forgot. It had been only recently that they had even acquired a telephone, something that Gohan had been forced to beg of his mother. But at that moment, that little detail didn't matter. He furrowed his eyebrows as he asked, "Why?"

_"-you come home expecting me to gut that monstrous fish you caught when I'm exhausted after-"_

"Well, to put it bluntly, King Furry's been kidnapped."

_"-a bad night's sleep? Where in Kami's name did you-"_

Gohan was unable to speak for a moment, calculating just what this meant. King Furry had been kidnapped? The last time anything like this had ever been attempted was apparently back before he had been born, when King Piccolo had threatened to take over the world. But he finally found the voice to stutter, "A-are you sure, Bulma? Do you know who did it?"

_"-disappear to last night? I saw you leave with Vegeta, and after you two delinquents disappeared, I-"_

"It's Mighty Mask," Bulma said, her grimace unseen as she said so.

_"Mighty Mask?"_ Gohan choked weakly as his jaw dropped. Out of anybody in the world who could plan to take over the world, he would never had suspected such a fighter. How could he dupe the whole world when he had been tricked himself by two little kids who assumed his persona in order to fight in the World Martial Arts Tournament two years ago?

_"-didn't get a wink of sleep! Do you know how many hours I spent trying to-"_

But he quickly caught on as Bulma asked, "Do you remember how Trunks and Goten dressed up as him and got away with fooling everybody? Well, I don't think that it's the real Mighty Mask that kidnapped King Furry. Cops inspected his house and couldn't find one thing after waking him up this morning."

Gohan's immediately flushed, just now realizing that he hadn't seen Goten all morning. Quickly, and with fright, he asked, "Is Trunks over there with you?" The thought crossed his mind that it could have been the devious duo who had been incognito, fooling the world with their childish antics.

"Yes, he's here," she said, and Gohan only released a quick breath of relief. Goten wouldn't be tall enough to fill that outfit alone, and it was only Trunks that would do something as ridiculously childish as to dress up as Mighty Mask in an attempt to take over the world. But Bulma wasn't so quick to forget her worries as she suspected, "Goten's not over there with you?"

"No." There was a pause after that, leaving Bulma to think over this strange situation.

_"-fall asleep again, tossing and turning with my poor back killing me? And now-"_

The blue-haired woman quickly found her voice again, though, to say, "I want your family to come meet us at the king's palace. I need a Saiyan to help me get past security, and I think that you'd make a good partner. I mean, along with being strong, you're almost as smart as I am."

Gohan smirked slightly at this pretentious comment, but something was bothering him. "What about Vegeta? Is he not coming?"

There was a slight huff on the other end of the line as Bulma muttered angrily, "He says he doesn't want to. He was gone all night last night, and I think he had something to do with this whole kidnapping business. He won't say a word about it."

"He was gone last night?" Gohan asked, glancing towards his father warily. Maybe his mother had been right in thinking that Vegeta had come to pick him up in the dark of the night. But if Vegeta was behind this whole business, did that mean that his own father was, too? The carefree Goku who was standing there with a silly grin on his face, watching his wife as she chewed him out?

_"-you come home with an excuse about going fishing! _FISHING?_ I'm not-"_

"Mm-hmm," Bulma replied, not even thinking of the fear in the younger man's voice. "Anyways, you'll meet us by the palace in a few hours, right? I'm determined to make sure that this isn't my fault that this whole business with King Furry started."

And Gohan could only reply, "S-sure, Bulma. Bye." And he heard a beep ending the conversation, so he tore the phone away from his ear and held it rigidly by his side. He ignored the fallen dragon for a moment longer as he stepped away from Icarus' side, moving down the hill's gentle decline and towards his parents.

_"-stupid, Goku. So tell me where you two delinquents went!"_

Goku still had his boyish grin on his face as he set the enormous fish down on the hill, its blue scales glinting in the sun. He watched Chi-Chi's frown for a moment before assuring her, "I'll gut the fish this time, I promise! I just wanted to bring you something home, Chi! I swear!"

But she wasn't so easily tricked. "You're_ lying_ to me, Goku!" she accused, jabbing a finger threateningly at his chest, gaining some height thanks to the downward slope of the hill and the fact that she was also standing on her toes. "I told you, I'm not going to fall for any of your excuses this time. Where did you go last night? _Tell me!_"

"Chi-Chi, I've never lied in my life!" Goku said, an unfortunate truth that Chi-Chi had to deal with. He held his hands up innocently as his smile slipped from his face, but Gohan saw something in his eyes that his mother was too blinded by anger to see. There was a certain shiftiness to his black eyes as he tried assuaging his wife with this fact. "I wouldn't lie to you or anybody, Chi-Chi! I really did just get back from fishing!"

"Where did you go last night, though?" she asked, her lips tightening with rage. "And don't you _dare_ tell me that you've been out since midnight trying to catch a fish!"

Goku laughed a bit sheepishly, "Well, Chi, I can't honestly say that I went fishing last night, but I can't tell you where I was." And that was it to his explanation, not even trying to satisfy her with a false alibi.

She seethed, crossing her arms once again, "For somebody who doesn't lie, you sure don't like to tell the truth."

"But it's the truth!" Goku insisted, feeling slightly guilty now for not being able to confide in his wife just where he had gone last night.

"Then why won't you tell me where you were?" she attacked, angered by just how stubborn he was to evade the truth. He called it the truth, but she called it everything but the truth. When a man couldn't lie, he had no other choice but to confuse her.

But Goku was saved from having to answer this question thanks to Gohan, who placed a hand on his mother's shoulder. She scowled a little at this interruption, but the shock on her son's face forced her to hold her tongue. He heaved a deep breath before saying, "Mom, Dad, King Furry's been kidnapped."

"Hey, I remember him!" Goku exclaimed happily, forgetting Chi-Chi's wrath at the moment. Chi-Chi only pouted, not really caring about the king at the moment when she wasn't done interrogating her husband. But both she and Gohan were surprised when the carefree expression on Goku's face immediately became serious. He crossed his arms, ignoring the fish behind him, and with his eyes slightly narrowed, he asked, "Do they know who kidnapped him?"

Gohan was slightly taken aback. He had been expecting his father to have been pretending to have never heard of him or something of that ilk, as he suspected that his father to have aided in the capture of the king. With he and Vegeta both gone the night before, along with Goten, whose whereabouts were currently unknown, it made sense that they had banded together for unknown reasons to take the king hostage. He hadn't expected his father to jump into the conversation so quickly and act prepared to take down whatever criminal had kidnapped the king. And Goku's set frown showed a certain determination that he knew wouldn't have persisted had this been an act, as Goku wasn't very good at keeping a straight face.

"It's Mighty Mask, Dad," Gohan said, and he was only further convinced that his father had no business with this kidnapping by how surprised he looked.

"Mighty Mask?" he asked incredulously, and his stoic expression immediately gave way to laughter. He bellowed, "Mighty Mask is taking over the world?" He clutched his stomach at the thought and doubled over, laughing, "Bah hah, Mighty Mask? But he's so... he's so weak!"

Gohan glanced from his amused father to his unamused mother, who had her hands on her hips. Then he turned around and looked back at Icarus, who was still laying rather pitifully on his side, but had managed to fall into a light doze. The demi-Saiyan shook his head, unable to fit these pieces together. It was too much of a coincidence for his father and Vegeta to both be out on the same night that King Furry had been kidnapped. And there was also this whole business of Goten not being there and Icarus being hurt. He could only hope that with Bulma's help, he would be able to fit everything together. He scratched the back of his head and sighed, hoping that King Furry was still fine.


	3. Chapter 3

**I have to admit, I think this is my favorite chapter so far. I figured that every good mystery needs some good adventure, so I hope you like it as much as I do! Enjoy!**

With one hand clutched securely on the control wheel, Bulma placed her other one on one of the throttle levers, bringing it forth a notch so as to slow down the plane. She glanced back warily to make sure that Trunks was fine as they jarred to a slower speed, but the little boy was simply sitting there. He was angry with his thin arms crossed against his chest, his expression a pout of frustration, but Bulma wasn't worried about her son. She resumed concentrating on flying the airplane, ignoring him as he glanced out of the window every few minutes and wondered just why he had to get stuck in this heap of garbage. He could fly, but his mother had already shot down that idea. She had insisted that they draw as little attention as possible.

_Yeah right._

Bulma Briefs was incapable of drawing 'little attention'. With the Capsule Corporation logo on either side of the jet, she would be treated like a celebrity the moment she stepped out of the plane. Besides King Furry, Trunks thought that she must have been one of the most powerful people in the world, though not in a physical sense. He wondered if that was why his father hated the blue dog so much - without him, they would practically be royalty.

But Trunks wrinkled his nose at this thought. His father would never settle down as king of Earth, as cool as that would be. Then he wouldn't have to go to school, and he could stay home and play all day. In fact, as a prince, he might even be able to get his classmates to do whatever he wanted. Trunks' unpleasant expression immediately brightened at this idea. He didn't care that he was already the prince of a race, because the Saiyans were basically extinct. They didn't really matter anymore. Being the king of Earth would definitely be cooler than being the king of a bunch of dead guys, and Trunks immediately realized that whoever kidnapped King Furry definitely had the right idea.

His mother leered a little suspiciously in the rear view mirror when she noticed this smirk cross his face, prompting her to ask, "What's so funny, Trunks?" As far as she could see, there had been nothing funny about this day, though Trunks was still a little kid, she supposed. Even when she had told him that Goten was missing, he hadn't seemed too disappointed except in that he wouldn't be able to plot with him as the two usually did.

Trunks caught on to his mother's lack of trust in him, expecting him to be planning something from that look on his face. So he quickly frowned and chirped innocently, "Nothing, Mom!" And he noticed the hint of her smile as she shifted her eyes from the rear view mirror to the altitude indicator, giving the glass a small tap with her manicured forefinger.

She knew that he had been mad at her earlier. She had told him that if he wanted to come, he had to ride in the backseat of the airplane. And despite all of his groaning about hating the plane, about how it would be so much easier to just fly, she refused to give in. When he had told her that she was going to fly anyways, what with her not being able to stop him, she had informed him that Gohan was coming to keep him in place. And so Trunks had had no choice but to follow her rather begrudgingly, strapping into his seat and remaining silent for the majority of the journey.

By now, Bulma believed that he had forgiven her, but it was far from that. He had to suppress a mischievous snicker, lest it reveal his evil intentions. As soon as they landed and the usual mob of reporters came to find out what the elusive Mrs. Briefs was up to, he would sneak away, right under both her and Gohan's noses. Even without Goten, Trunks was set on solving this case himself. He would find out who Mighty Mask was, and he would get the Zeni reward, however much it was. He wasn't certain of what he would do with it, seeing as he already had everything he could ever want, but he reasoned that there was no such thing as having too much money.

Despite this avarice on his part, he also wanted to catch Mighty Mask to better his reputation. Everybody else seemed to get recognition - Dad for blowing up the Gravitational Room, Mom for inventing something new. Even Goten got recognized for finding some giant centipede in the ground or catching a big fish. For once in his life, Trunks wanted to do something, especially since that whole Buu fiasco hadn't turned out in his favor. First off, he couldn't defeat Majin Buu even when fused with Goten. And then, to further humiliate him, Majin Buu had become a good guy. It was both an embarrassment and disappointment rolled up into one big ball of ugly.

Trunks peered out of the window and looked at all of the white buildings, all with domed roofs of a multitude of colors. He sighed, this place looking just about as boring as West City. However, as they cruised along a little further, something enormous caught Trunks' eye. He peered over the chair in front of him to see a large tower rising above the masses. The palace was white but with layers of blue banding across it, a large steeple resting at the top, where the king presumably presided when not kidnapped. Trunks felt his mouth fall open, having never seen a building this large. Not even their home was this big, and that was saying something.

The metallic spire glimmered with the sun beating down on it from an angle, now with it being later in the afternoon. Trunks' attention was immediately turned to the built-in radio, however, as a man's voice boomed, _"Mrs. Briefs? We've cleared a spot for you to land."_

"Thanks, Jeff," was all she replied, giving a little, knowing wink to her son through the rear view mirror. He snorted a little indignantly and crossed his arms, his small nose turned to the air arrogantly. But before he knew it, his mother had turned the aircraft so sharply that he released a rather undignified yelp, resulting in her chuckling.

He clenched on to his seat, still not used to the landing process in aircrafts. With flying, landing was easy. He just had to land, and it was as simple as that. But flying an airplane was much more complicated, he observed as his mother pushed forward on the some of the throttle levers, flicked some switches on the ceiling, and jammed her thumb against a rather large, red button on the dash board. She tapped the altitude indicator again before placing both hands on the wheel, warning, "This might be a bit bumpy, Trunks."

And that was certainly an understatement as the plane jarred as it tilted forward, the whole thing shaking with a kind of fervor. Trunks' shoulders seized up as he snapped, "Do you have a license to fly this plane, Mom?" Because of the extraneous motions she was adding, it looked as though she was making half of the procedure up.

"_Please_, Trunks," she replied, though her grimace in the rear view mirror did nothing to assuage his fears. "If I can build a plane, I don't need a license to fly one."

Wrong answer. Trunks planted his face firmly into the palm of his hand, shaking his head and knowing that they were doomed. Or at least she was. He personally didn't think a plane crash would kill him, being fortune enough to have Saiyan blood in his veins. But as he looked up, it seemed as though this was the perfect opportunity to save his own mother, as she had resorted to banging against the control panel, muttering, "Stupid thing..."

"Mom, can I-"

"No," she said quickly, her fuse obviously shortening as she tried hitting the red button again. She clenched her teeth in frustration, trying to concentrate. So she couldn't remember exactly how to land - it had been years since she had flown a plane, and she wasn't expecting her mind to go at a time like this.

"Mom, if-"

"Zip it, mister," she demanded, pulling back on one of the throttle levers automatically. She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth, staining them with some of her red lipstick. But even the vain owner of Capsule Corporation didn't notice how she was messing up her makeup as she tried fruitlessly to pull at one of the other levers, only to find that it was stuck. Trunks watched her struggle with concern, furrowing his eyebrows as he observed just what she was doing. Some of the lights were flashing, and a gauge on the dashboard was glowing a faint red, but he had no idea of what any of these signals meant. He was only ten and never thought he'd get into a situation where his mother would forget how to fly a plane she had designed.

"Mom, I-"

And at this, Bulma twisted her torso around so violently that Trunks felt himself snap back into his seat, the restraints pressing against his thin body. "Not another word out of you," she snarled, shaking her finger violently in his direction before turning back around, huffing with frustration. So he sat there, regarding his mother with a certain fear he only held for his father. It wasn't until she began trying to pull at that lever but was unable to that Trunks dared to speak again.

"Mom, let me do that for you," he insisted, unbuckling his seat belt and walking forth unsteadily, placing a hand to the back of her seat for support.

Before she could bite back with a retort to leave her alone, he grabbed on to the handlebar her hand was latched on to and pulled. Only he faced the opposite problem as his mother in the fact that he had pulled a little to hard. The two, mother and son, stared at one another after glancing down at the lever, now detached from the plane. And before Trunks knew what was happening, he felt both of his mother's hands on his arms, shaking him with her face an unnatural shade of red, her expression hysterical. _"TRUNKS!"_ she yelled, having taken both hands off of the control wheel, giving him a forceful jolt with her two hands. Trunks only watched with wide eyes as his mother, blue and red, seethed, _"You tore off the lever that controls the plane's altitude!"_

He wasn't completely certain of what that meant, but by the maniacal glint in his mother's eye, he didn't think it was a very good thing. He gulped, but before his mother could strangle him by the throat, they both felt a jerk to the plane. Bulma's breath shuddered as she licked her lips, remembering that she was in the midst of flying a plane. She snapped back around quickly and clenched her hands on the control wheel, but that was unnecessary. Strangely, the plane had stopped in midair and was now just levitating there.

Bulma released her trembling hands from the control wheel at this marvel, her eyes widening as she stared at it. It didn't move, but the plane was still descending slowly. Her breathing almost ceased as she sat there, the color dying from her face. Trunks glanced around in confusion, holding on to the handlebar. What was happening?

Finally, the plane touched down very gently on to the ground, and Trunks could hear cheers from the crowd. He released a relieved sigh, though his mother was still very much immobilized, staring at the control wheel as though she had seen a ghost. It wasn't until her ten-year-old son dared to touch her shoulder, to comfort her and tell her that the frightening experience was over, that she pressed the button to release the restraints and very quickly grabbed her son by his arms. And all she could do was scream once again, _"TRUNKS!"_ She gave him a rather hard shake, so angry that she had difficulty finding words to describe exactly how she felt. But before she could continue on with a long and winded rant, she realized that photographers were running up to the window, snapping pictures of the boy in his mother's grasp. And so Bulma calmed herself, content for the moment with simply whispering furiously through gritted teeth, "When we get back home, I'm going to get your father to have a talk with you."

Trunks gulped as she released him, but before he could even make his way to the door, it slid open on its own. Or so he thought. Both he and his mother stared at the door in shock, and they were certainly shocked when they saw their hero. There was the Great Saiyaman, standing there in one of his rather ridiculous poses, his red cape fluttering behind him with the wind. And now the mumbling of the crowd became distinct, with all of the people chanting, "Great Saiyaman! Great Saiyaman! Great Saiyaman!"

He ignored the adulation of the mob for the moment to tend to more pressing matters. He dropped his heroic stance after the automatic door had opened completely, and he climbed up into the plane. Then, with minimal movement of his lips, he asked, "Are you two okay?" He realized that the photographers at the cockpit window were snapping away, so he took this moment to pose, giving a hearty thumbs up towards them as he flashed a smile. It felt good to be Saiyaman again, as he had dropped the costume once he started college, being too busy to keep up with saving the city. Now Videl went on missions every once in a while, but he was never terribly concerned for her. She had served her city before alone, and he knew that, at least for the time being, she would have to serve it alone. She couldn't simply slip away into another identity like he could. She was expected to save the city when necessary, no matter the danger, and so she had no choice in the matter.

Bulma had just managed to recompose herself, though she still couldn't help but hiss, "No, I'm certainly not okay." And she glared daggers at Trunks but was unable to do a thing, not with the media interested to see interaction between the most powerful woman in the world on a monetary standpoint and the most powerful man, or so they assumed, in the world on a physical standpoint. Instead, she allowed Saiyaman to take her hand and pull her up to her feet, swaying unsteadily on her heels after such a frightening experience.

She lunged for the handbag sitting in the passenger seat and quickly readjusted her makeup, turning away from the window as she opened up her compact mirror and reapplied some lipstick. Trunks was still slightly traumatized by the whole experience, but Saiyaman placed a gloved hand on his younger brother's friend's shoulder and said, this time in a more boisterous manner, "Do not worry, little boy! I am the defender of justice! The light in the darkness! I am the vanquisher of fears and the perpetrator of evil!" He had been working on those lines over the past year in case he ever did get back in the Saiyaman business, and he was very proud of them. The icing on the cake was when he patted the repulsed Trunks on the back and said, "There's no need to thank me, small child. I'm only doing my job." He hoped that the news reporters had picked up on this seeming modesty on his part - there was nothing like good press.

And with this guiding hand on the purple-haired boy's back, he ushered Trunks out of the plane and in front of a vast sea of people, all hooting and howling with cheers. He decided that it would be best to draw some of the attention away from Bulma, who he knew was in a different situation. Whereas he would hear nothing but praise, he could see her name in the headlines now. _Bulma Briefs Loses Control of Own Model of Plane._ Or, even better: _Bulma Briefs Attempts to Strangle Son After Rough Landing._ Or, his favorite: _Bulma Briefs Saved By Best Super Hero on Planet._

He sighed a little to himself, mussing up Trunks' hair with a satisfied pat as he exclaimed, "I am bringer of hope! Protector of good! Defender of justice!" And then he clenched his teeth and cursed himself, just remembering that he had already used that one. But he quickly fixed this by adding, "I am the dawn of the metaphorical day of peace!"

The crowd simply raved with this one, and chanting ensued with his name. He chuckled deeply, holding his hand out in a peace sign and forgetting all about Trunks, who found this an ideal opportunity to slip away. Many people noticed him, but nobody stopped him, as they were all too focused on the Great Saiyaman, standing there valiantly after having made his first appearance in over a year. And so Trunks managed to make his escape, pushing through all sorts of people for what felt like just about an hour.

Once he broke through to the edge of the stuffy crowd, he just about gagged, having not smelled so much sweat and body odor in a long time. There was a reason that he usually flew over crowds, he realized, but he had been determined to attract little attention. He didn't want his mother to realize he had disappeared, and he was certain that the press would distract her for long enough. Now was his chance to find out just who was pretending to be Mighty Mask.

And he was excited.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'd never really imagined this pairing before, but if there was such a thing as a GohanxBulma pairing, this is definitely what it would be like (in my mind, at least). This chapter was really fun to write, so you'd better enjoy!  
**

Bulma released a huff as she pushed herself away from Saiyaman, who grimaced as the woman stalked away from him. She stopped a short distance away to wrinkle her nose in distaste. Then she pushed her pencil skirt down and patted at her blue bob of hair, trying to put the stray strands back in place. Finally, she turned back to face him as she placed a hand to her hip and muttered sarcastically, "As chivalrous as always, Great Saiyaman."

The Gohan hiding behind those dark sunglasses could only blush furiously. "S-sorry, Bulma," he stuttered, scratching the white bandanna on his head rather awkwardly. "I really didn't mean to..." To grab her by the butt, to put it rather bluntly, but he couldn't bring himself to say that. He flinched as he spotted her roll of the eyes, obviously unimpressed by his hesitation to confess to such an act, his words trailing off into nothingness.

It had happened when Bulma had stepped out of the plane, finally prepared to face the press after putting some finishing touches on her makeup. But the crowd was relentless, already throwing questions of just what had happened up in the air, why she had had difficulty landing, and how her son had come within her strong grip. This intense session of bombarding her with inquiries was brief, however, and she wasn't even given a chance to answer a single question because of the Great Saiyaman. He, as keen as he was on such matters, had decided that Bulma had really already endured enough that day, and so, in one swift move, he had picked her up and soared into the air.

It was then, as the roars of the mob below died away, that Gohan decided to look down at the woman in his arms. He noticed that she was paralyzed in his grip for some reason or another, at first attributing it to a fear of heights that he had never known about. But then a sudden realization passed over him, and he could only gulp with great chagrin. He almost dropped her from hundreds of feet above the pavement as soon he realized that he had accidentally grabbed_ the_ Bulma Briefs, owner of Capsule Corporation and a woman _over twice his age_, by the rear end.

What humiliation that had been.

The pretentious Saiyaman had no choice but to drop his valiant act as they landed in an alleyway, not too far away from the palace. Unfortunately, not even his dark sunglasses could save him from a situation like this, unable to smooth this all over and allow him to adopt his cool, suave manner he always assumed while dressed up in this outfit. Once again, he had become the giddy teenager he had been only two years prior. And he was _engaged_ now! If Videl ever found out about this, he wasn't sure of whether she would laugh at his shame or try to beat him up. Or perhaps both in an attempt to knock some maturity in him. But the fact of the matter at the moment was that he, the Great Saiyaman and one of the many heroes of Earth, had grabbed the three-times-voted most influential woman on Earth in a more than friendly manner.

Though, to his relief when he managed to find the courage to face Bulma again, he noticed that she didn't seem as violated as she had first let on with that sarcastic smear. In fact, she had a rather thoughtful expression on her face, a finger pressed to her chin as though pondering over a rather puzzling matter. Then she lilted her eyes back down to the embarrassed Gohan and, having recovered from such indignity, decided to have some fun with the poor man. "You know, Gohan, if you were about twenty years older, maybe you could have a chance with-"

"Bulma!" he exclaimed, his shoulders dropping with distraught. He was_ engaged!_ He placed an exhausted hand to his forehead, wondering how his temperature hadn't broken the records. To his great fortune, it didn't seem as if he had contracted a fever, though his face was still a violent shade of pink behind those sunglasses.

"I'm just _kidding_, kid," she said, giving him a small shrug and a suggestive wink as she placed a hand to her hip and sauntered off. "Anyways, if I was looking for a Son, I'd go for your father. I've always had an eye on him after that growth spurt before that World Martial Arts Tournament." And Gohan could only give an exasperated sigh, wondering just what his mother would have to say to a threat like that. But he wisely decided at that moment that he would never tell Chi-Chi this, lest she tear down Bulma's front door and pound her face in personally.

Because Bulma's face was turned away from him as she retreated a little ways off, he couldn't see her smug expression. She had certainly been shocked when he had picked her up, but overall, it had probably been for the better. Somebody needed to put the Great Saiyaman back in his place, and if this was the only way, then so let it be. But she couldn't help but glance back at him and feel sorry, regarding his figure stooped in shame with that signature red cape trailing over the floor. And so she turned back to face him and change the subject by asking, "So, where do we go from now, kid? I'm not exactly happy with how you just picked me up like that."

Gohan grimaced before trying to apologize once again. "Listen, Bulma, I _really_ didn't mean to grab y-"

But she simply held a finger up, silencing the humiliated man. "I'm not talking about that," she sighed, placing her hand back to her hip. Was that really _all_ he could think about? "It's just that the press is going to give me a hard time about this. I mean, let's face this fact: Saiyaman's a little too young to be sweeping old hags up into his arms without raising suspicion." But before he could protest, trying to defend her by claiming that she wasn't old, or a hag, for that matter, she held her finger up to silence him once again. "If you thought what they were asking me earlier was bad, it'll fade in comparison. You should have just let me handle the press. I'm an expert by now, since I've practically been doing it since the day I was born."

"I'm sorry," Gohan muttered, feeling foolish for messing up on all accounts. He failed miserably in saving a woman from the same press that would hound her later for him saving her. "I-I didn't mean to get you in trouble. _Honestly._ I just-"

"Listen, Gohan," she interrupted, trying to relieve him of his guilt. "You're just like your father. You were just trying to do what's best for everybody, but you ended up screwing up in the worst way possible." And, somehow, this didn't make him feel any better. So she gave him a comforting smile and added, "You have to remember that, if it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't be here right now. You did save me from crashing back there."

"Trunks could have-"

"Trunks was too scared to do anything," Bulma cut him off, shaking her head and closing her eyes. She had given him the fright of his young life, most certainly. It was rare that she was ever that enraged, but on the brinks of death, something kicked her into a higher gear. But instead of this survival instinct helping her in getting the plane to land safely, she had simply used the sudden anger to shake her son so violently that she was surprised he didn't lose breath. And, with a rather unprecedented attempt at modesty, Bulma confessed, "It was my fault that we were in that mess. I haven't flown a plane in years, and I had never flown that particular model. I fretted and... well, I just don't do well under stress, I guess."

"That's what my dad always used to say," Gohan finally managed to chuckle, feeling a bit more comfortable. It was odd to have Bulma speak in such a way, but it was better that they had veered from the previous topic, something that he knew she wouldn't let down for years to come.

Bulma lifted her head at this little comment and asked, "Speaking of your dad, where is he? You didn't bring him with you, did you? Or your mom?"

With a shake of his head, still avoiding Bulma's gaze, he explained, "I found Icarus hurt in the forest earlier today, and so Mom decided that she'd stay home to take care of him. And then Dad couldn't come because he's grounded, apparently." He gave a small chuckle, though he was immediately disheartened as his thoughts returned to his dragon friend injured back at home.

He had left home slightly apprehensive, worried about abandoning Icarus to go on this hunt for whoever could have captured King Furry, but he was glad he had. He had been in the midst of being jostled about in an overly enthused crowd when there were cries that erupted around him of that famous Briefs woman unable to control her flying, and Gohan was relieved to find that he had put his Saiyaman watch on his wrist that morning, something he did every once in a while in case of emergency. And so it had only been a matter of getting through the crowd and finding a safe spot to transform, and then all he had to do was to catch the falling plane. Simple enough, really.

They both gave small sighs of their own before Bulma asked, "And you haven't found Goten?" She remembered him mentioning them being unable to locate the little rascal, and by the worry on his older brother's face, she assumed that she was right.

"I asked my dad if he knows where he is, but he just keeps saying that Goten's fine," Gohan said, taking his sunglasses off and wiping the thin, filmy layer over them with his red cape. "Dad can't lie, but I know he knows something about this. He keeps talking in riddles, something that I didn't think was even _possible_ for him. Did you know that he and Vegeta were out together last night?"

The blue-haired woman clenched her teeth angrily. "They were?" Vegeta hadn't mentioned a thing about the other Saiyan being involved, and if Goku had gotten pulled into this mess, Bulma knew that something was wrong. The Saiyan Prince would do almost anything before getting the low-class urchin to help him carry out his plans. If whatever they were doing had anything to do with King Furry, Bulma knew her husband must have been pretty desperate to have dared asking Goku.

"Yeah, and I really think that the two of them did something with Goten, too," the man confessed after pushing the sunglasses back on the bridge of his thin nose, shaking his head. "Whenever I tried asking a question about Vegeta or him, my dad would go on with his own business, pretending that he didn't hear me."

And at that moment, Bulma frowned as she remembered she had a little kid of her own to take care of. She glanced around and scrutinized the alleyway with her blue eyes, having just realized that her son was missing. Then she turned her eyes back to Gohan and asked, "Did you happen to pick up Trunks? I don't see him."

Gohan gulped, having forgotten all about the boy in his moment of glory. He had been so absorbed by the adoring crowd that he hadn't kept an eye on him, probably an ideal time for the sneak to get away. Gohan's winced slightly, afraid to face her wrath, as he said in a meek voice, "No, I'm sorry, Bu-"

"Enough with the apologies," Bulma sighed. She allowed a hand to run over her hair in slight frustration, her eyes darting around now as if for an idea. "Can you pick up his energy?"

The man immediately nodded as he stood there. "He's obviously trying to mask it, but I still sense a power level higher than average. Do you want me to go get him?"

"Don't bother. We don't have time to mess with that crowd again. Let's just get searching, as long as you keep an eye on his ki." And when she turned back to face the Great Saiyaman, she found that he wasn't the Great Saiyaman at all anymore. Instead, there was a rather sheepish Gohan, his face still tinged with pink from his embarrassment earlier. He was now in his usual outfit for college, which was a baby blue button-down shirt with dark slacks. She smirked slightly as she appraised his outfit, having never seen it before, and said, "Nice style. You look sharp, kid."

The pink returned in full force to Gohan's face, but he could only mutter, "Thanks. I think it'll be easier to go hunting around for clues as a nerd rather than the Great Saiyaman." Bulma only nodded, not noticing that the man was holding his chin as a way of pondering, finally deciding to say, "Bulma, you need a disguise, too. You're too famous for your own good; if that same mob sees you sneaking around, you'll only be getting bad publicity."

And the boy not only looked sharp, but he was sharp, a fact that she refused to acknowledge. Bulma scrunched her face up in thought, turning her eyes upwards ambivalently, but she didn't have to think long. "I have an idea," she said, dropping her expensive handbag she had kept tucked under her arm and letting it land to the floor with a thud. Then she bent down, and heaving slightly, she pulled out the long, frock-like, plaid coat that Vegeta had been wearing only that morning, something that Gohan could only raise an eyebrow at. She gave the heavy bundle of cloth a forceful fling with her wrists, allowing it to straighten out thanks to gravity. "I really brought this for you to look at, but I think this'll do nicely."

"What is it?" Gohan dared to ask, coming closer rather hesitantly. It looked faintly familiar, though he couldn't put his tongue on where he'd seen it.

Bulma released a sigh, fatigued already from having carried it around all morning in her bag, and said, "It's a coat that Vegeta came in wearing this morning. I found it folded up on the kitchen table while he was napping, and so I figured that I would bring it along to have you inspect." And she pushed it eagerly into Gohan's hands, relieving herself of the weight.

"Wow, this is pretty heavy!" Gohan exclaimed, as he held it in his grasp, having not expected the thick cloth to weigh so much. He was surprised that Bulma was able to hold it so easily, though he supposed she still did work out to maintain her figure. He regarded the woven fabric and wondered just where the Saiyan had acquired such a thing. But something else puzzled him, and he looked back up to the older woman to ask, "So, what do you want me to do with it?"

"Well, I remember Goku having a really strong sense of smell as a kid, and I was wondering if you did, too. Plus, you probably know better than I do where Vegeta could have picked up something so hideous."

Gohan grin faltered slightly at this request. "You know, my sense of smell has never been as strong as my dad's. I don't know if-"

"Save the modesty for later, kid," Bulma interrupted, waving her hand quickly to dismiss his words. "I know that you're fully capable of smelling a piece of fabric, or can the Great Saiyaman not even do that much?"

The challenge placed the smirk back on Gohan's face, and before he knew what he was getting into, he bent his head down so that his face was buried in the cloth. It only took one deep whiff of the coat before Gohan pulled it away from his face, revealing an expression of revulsion. _"Yuck!"_ he yelped, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Bulma leaned in closer to the young man, intrigued as he continued, "It smells like... it smells like _sweat._"

"Sweat?" Bulma asked uncertainly, placing a curious finger to her lips. "Like _Vegeta_ sweat?" It would make sense, considering her husband had just been wearing it, and she hadn't washed it lest she wash away some evidence.

"No, it's not like Saiyan sweat," Gohan explained, and he quickly held the cloth up to his nose again, putting up with the smell. He closed his eyes and concentrated, shifting the fabric around so as to sniff different parts of it as he muttered, "It smells like human sweat, but I smell a little Saiyan blood here, too. It's Vegeta's blood, I'm willing to bet, but I can't pinpoint exactly whose sweat it is..." He continued breathing in deeply, gaining a snicker out of Bulma. He immediately lifted his face back out of the cloth and asked defensively, "What's so funny?"

She had a hand pressed to her mouth to suppress her laughter. "You just look funny," she said, giving a little shrug. And it was true, because he had been pondering so hard over whose sweat it could have been that his eyebrows had furrowed, the creases on his forehead becoming more pronounced the more he thought as he basically nuzzled his way through the rough fabric. And Gohan slowly became a rosy pink, rather embarrassed as he lowered the coat.

"Sorry, Bulma, I'm just trying to find out who this belongs to."

"No need to apologize, kid," she said, giving him another one of her winks. That only made him blush even more furiously, something she enjoyed holding over him. She pulled the plaid coat from his grasp and began folding it back up, grunting slightly with the effort. "Plus, I think we already have a pretty good idea of who it belongs to." And as Gohan blinked vapidly, she laughed, "One of the other fighters, of course! Geez, and they call you smart."

"Hey! I am smart!" Gohan exclaimed, resenting that statement. But before he could send a retort back in her direction, his mind had already leapt ahead. And, to her surprise, Gohan jumped up enthusiastically, clapped his hands together, and nearly yelled, "Wait! I've got it!"

"Keep quiet, or somebody'll hear us," she hushed him, placing the folded coat over her arms with effort. She glanced warily down towards the end of the alley, amazed that nobody had found the odd pair yet. But she brought her attention back on the demi-Saiyan to ask, "Now, what are you talking about, Gohan?"

And before she knew what was happening, he had seized the coat back from her grasp and lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "This is Tien's!" he exclaimed, glad that his impeccable memory wasn't failing him at the moment. Bulma only narrowed her eyes a bit suspiciously as he continued, "Do you remember that day, a little over ten years ago, that we met Trunks from the future? The day that Frieza came back to destroy Earth? Well, this is the training coat that he wore that day! He and Chiaotzu were training in the mountains, and so they needed weighted clothing that would keep them from freezing! No wonder it stinks!"

Bulma's eyes lit up with recognition. "You're right!" she said, almost ready to jump up and down herself. Their first clue! She supposed that Gohan was smarter than she gave him credit for, but she wasn't about to admit that she had been wrong. "So do you think we should go check on Tien? He must know something about all this!"

"Hang on," Gohan said, focusing in on the cloth once more. And with his forehead wrinkled in concentration, he plucked something that had passed his vision during the first inspection. And between his thumb and forefinger he held up a single, short strand of white hair to the light, rather coarse and able to stand up fairly well on its own. "Look at this," he murmured, and Bulma's attention was won over. But before she could take it from him to examine it herself, he had placed it under his nose, giving it a thorough sniff.

"Well?" she asked, her hands on her hips as he closed his eyes, racking his brain for whatever this could be. "Did you pick up a scent?"

Without opening his eyes, Gohan briefly stated, "Animal hair." And after another careful whiff, he elaborated, "Cat hair, more specifically." He lowered the hair and tucked the coat under his arm, examining the lone strand. Then he turned his eyes back to Bulma to ask, "You don't have any white cats at Capsule Corp., do you?"

"Only a few," she replied, wondering just why he cared. It wasn't as though a cat could do anything evil.

Gohan only frowned and clenched the hair more tightly in his grip. "There's something weird about how this hair smells. I mean, it doesn't smell like an ordinary cat."

"And what exactly does an ordinary cat smell like?"

"A litter box."

Bulma smirked at this brilliant deduction. "So, since we have litter boxes at Capsule Corp., you don't think it could be one of my cats?" Gohan bobbed his head slightly, and Bulma wondered aloud, "But what kind of cat doesn't use a litter box? Unless it was a stray, but I doubt Vegeta got close enough to one of those to pick up some of its fur."

Gohan only shrugged. "Anything's possible, I guess. But we need to start looking now, or the sun will go down on us. We can talk about this later." And Bulma nodded, just now realizing exactly how the blue sky had become just a shade more orange within their time standing here. "We can talk to Tien later, but I think it'll be best to get some clues while we're here." He pocketed the white piece of fur just in case it would come of use later and unfolded the heavy, plaid coat. "Are you sure you can wear this, Bulma? It's a training outfit, so it weighs a lot."

"I'll survive," she assured him, tugging it from his hands as quickly as she could. "I did carry it around all day, in case you don't remember." And with some effort, she heaved it over her head and slid it down her slim frame, looking rather ridiculous with it reach down to her knees. It was now that she could appreciate just how tall Tien was - he was certainly taller than Vegeta, in any case. She released a deep huff, this outfit being heavier on than she had expected, before managing a smile. "Plus, I don't think your sensitive nose would be able to put up with the stench, kid. I'll be able to hold my fashion sense for a little while, and it makes for a good disguise. No executive at Capsule Corp. would dare wear something as hideous as this."

Gohan watched nervously as she bent down and pulled up a purple shawl from her large handbag, keeping one hand on his arm as balance. She tossed it over her head so as to keep her conspicuous, blue hair from being recognized. He then had to catch her as she stumbled forth from the sheer weight of the training coat, and he wondered if this was a good plan after all. But Bulma was too stubborn a woman to change her mind, and if he told her that she was too weak to walk in that thing, she would only be angered and more determined to prove him wrong. So he could only clench his teeth as she leaned against his chest, partly because she was having trouble supporting herself, and partly because she knew that she could manipulate him with his boyish discomfort. His face reddened considerably at this foreign touch.

He certainly hoped that Videl would never find out about all of this. He didn't want her to know that he was planning to break into palace grounds, and he especially didn't want her to know how uncomfortable he was just at Bulma's touch. If his fiancee did ever find out about this mess, he knew that she would take the liberty to beat him up personally. And even Gohan didn't want to be at the other end of one of Videl's punches, them being almost as bad as having a particular blue-haired, forty-three-year-old acting flirtatiously so as to seize all control of this situation. _Almost._


	5. Chapter 5

**A bit of a short chapter, but I hope you enjoy! Sorry for taking so long with this one - school's been a pain, and I haven't been able to do as much brainstorming what with all of this thinking I've had to put forth. ;) Anyways, a shoutout to Esplandian for officially giving me nightmares. Baba and Saiyaman? Now that's a crack pairing if I've ever heard one!**

Trunks couldn't help but fidget impatiently, scowling whenever a thin, pointy branch scraped at his arms. Now that he was here, he wondered if a bush hadn't been the best of hiding spots, though he couldn't help but admit its effectiveness. From this location, he could spot the guards on patrol in the garden usually open to the public, but now blocked off to visitors as the scene was searched for clues as to where their beloved king could be. He snickered a little under his breath, watching as a few reporters demanded that they be let in to investigate and were promptly escorted off the grounds. That was exactly why asking never got anybody anywhere; the only way to get in was to trespass.

He was waiting there, having left the confused crowd back a little ways away. They were still speculating over just where his mother could have gone with the mysterious Saiyaman, something that Trunks found he enjoyed immensely. All of those adults that always hounded his mother, acting all smart with their proper business suits and funny accents, had no idea of what just had happened. They didn't know that Bulma Briefs had simply gone off with a family friend, and they didn't know that Bulma Briefs might very well be sneaking around this very castle, gathering clues. No, now this ten-year-old was more knowledgeable than they were or probably ever would be, and it certainly boosted Trunks' ego.

But he couldn't revel in that glory for long, being brought back to the events of earlier that morning. He had to find out who had captured King Furry - he didn't want to leave such a task for somebody else to do. And so, after he had escaped the intensity of the crowd and lost sight of his mother and Gohan, it hadn't taken much thought over what to do next before Trunks jumped over a low wall and into this particular clump of bushes located towards the edge of the blocked-off territory. It was now that he was taking the time to formulate ideas of exactly how to get into the castle, past the security. And it certainly didn't help his confidence to look up through the tiny leaves, trying not to rustle the branches, and gaze up at the looming castle. It was huge, most definitely, but Trunks thought he had a good idea of where to check first.

It was obvious that the king had been sleeping on the top floor. How he knew, he wasn't sure. He just thought that it sounded right for a king to sleep on top, no other body above his. After all, he was king, and what kind of king would settle for anything less than the highest position? His father slept on the first floor at Capsule Corporation, but that was different: his father was only a prince. It had to be just why his mother always dominated him all the time, making him do stuff he didn't want to do. Trunks scrunched his face up as he thought of all the mushy stuff his mother always said to get his father to do stuff, though he supposed that was alright. His mother was practically queen of the world. His father was only prince of Saiyans.

Trunks shook his head of these thoughts, knowing that his father would obliterate him if he let one word of how he really felt about Saiyans slip. He focused again on the task at hand and looked up through the leaves of the bushes, surprised that he could spot the highest balcony of the tower even at this angle. The question, he realized, though, was really not of _where to go_. It was more of _how to get there._

The most obvious solution to such a dilemma would be to fly, but Trunks knew that these people had guns, and he frankly didn't enjoy dealing with artillery. Their weapons couldn't damage him, but they still stung when they struck his tender flesh. In all actuality, he had only experienced a few run-ins with the Earth military, but those few were enough to make him not want to face them again. Certainly, he could blow them up without even trying - in fact, he had once asked his father why they didn't just destroy all of those who opposed them. But his father had told him that it would be more fun to make them suffer rather than to just annihilate them with a single blast. Krillin claimed his father was becoming weak with that answer, but Trunks thought his father was cool, even if he was the prince of a bunch of dead guys. Vengeance by suffering, after all, was extremely fun.

And along with not wanting to blow up the entertainment, Trunks also didn't want to get on his mother's bad side. His mother, for some reason, still believed him to be the same sweet, little kid that Goten was, but Trunks was different. His father had influenced him, as corrupt as the prince was, but he couldn't let his mother find that out. So he continued with this whole charade of pretending to be an innocent, little boy. But as he saw a guard pass by, he clenched his fist together, as though restraining the will to blow them all up. Trunks was certain that he could - if his father could, why wouldn't he be able to?

He surveyed the area, licking his chapped lips as he did so. His eyes trailed the mowed lawn, clear save for the clumps of bushes around the perimeter of this particular garden and a large, majestic fountain sitting in the center. He eyed the stone fountain with interest, watching the water as it cascaded down the sculptured rock. A mischievous grin found its way on his face as an idea came to him.

Briskly, after he was assured that the guards weren't looking in his direction, he sped across the grassy yard and jumped quite gracefully into the shallow puddle of water at the base of the fountain, only a slight splash arising. He ducked his head down, glad that his hair wasn't spiky and so conspicuous as most of his other friends', and allowed only his eyes to peer over the rim. He lowered his head instinctively, however, as a few guards spun around, confused by the sudden burst of wind from his speed. It took all of his effort to keep from bursting out laughing, wondering just why the king would hire such buffoons as security. Had they never seen a Saiyan before? But Trunks supposed he couldn't really blame them. Saiyans were practically extinct, after all.

He submerged himself completely in the fountain water and proceeded to crawl all the way to the other side of the huge fountain, cautious so as to not make so much as a ripple in the water. Then, once he reached the opposite wall, he pulled his head out and allowed himself to inhale a large breath of air. If there was one flaw in his Saiyan heritage, it was that the alien race couldn't hold their breath any longer than an average human. Unless eating, of course. Saiyans _never_ choked while eating.

Trunks' head peeked out from the stone fountain, his clothes dripping wet as he pulled his torso from the shallow pool of water, still in hiding. But there were no guards on this side of the garden, strangely, most of them clumped around the front gate, where reporters continually harassed them. He glanced back so as to be certain that none of the other guards were watching, and when his fears were assuaged, he quickly leapt to his feet out of the water and darted down the garden, straight towards the castle door.

But, of course, the path wasn't as straight a shot as he had hoped. Before he knew it, somebody had caught a glimpse of him even at this amazing speed, and before he could reach the door he had already heard a yell of, "Wait!" But he continued on, and surely enough, when he lodged himself in a small nook in the wall between two pillars, the guard was blinking vapidly. Trunks actually couldn't hold a slight snicker this time, knowing that the guard was presently doubting his own sanity, imagining that he had just hallucinated a purple-haired boy to have dashed across the lawn with super speed.

Now he was resting in the shadows, lurking in a nook in a stony, courtyard wall. He pressed himself into this gap that had a depth of about a foot, standing over a small bed of little wild flowers. He held his breath, keeping closer to the wall as that guard decided to inspect the area. This wasn't good. If the guard came around the corner, he would see Trunks in plain view. If he had been an ordinary boy, at least.

Of course, that was when Trunks remembered that he wasn't an ordinary boy, and not only because of his exotic, purple hair. He suppressed his breath and drifted gently upwards, scaling the courtyard wall slowly to a good height while remaining inconspicuously in the shadows. He stopped rising once he was about to clear the wall and be back in the open once more, having glanced above cautiously and noticed a sniper lurking on a roof. Now that Trunks thought about it, he had never been hit by a sniper rifle before. But he wanted to keep it that way.

With all of the daring he could muster in his thin body, he darted through the sky and latched on to the wall of the main palace, landing in the shadows of a low-lying balcony. His heart pounded as he clung to the white plaster in hopes that the sniper hadn't spotted him during this mad leap. To his fortune, though, this gamble had paid off; as he dared look up towards the setting sun, he noticed that the sniper had turned his back on him. The thought hadn't occurred to Trunks that, with his speed, it would have been difficult for the sniper to have seen him even if he had been searching for him.

Trunks supposed that, with having seen all of Goten's failed attempts of sneaking around, he had begun doubting his own abilities. But his confidence was boosted with this slight victory on his part, not getting shot at even after taking to the air, straight through the open. He smirked deviously to himself as his heart slowed down, and he quickly surveyed the ground below him. He supposed that he could go through the front door and start his search for clues from the bottom of the palace, but his vision was drawn back up above him. He peeked his head slightly out of the shadow of the overhanging balcony above him so as to gain a better view of the palace as a whole, which looked ever taller with him latched on to it.

The top room, he thought after musing over his brainstorming session from earlier, had to have been where the king's bedroom was located. It seemed to be a logical start to his search, but he gritted his teeth slightly as he withdrew back into his hiding spot. He kept close to the wall while hovering underneath the balcony and pondered over one small obstacle that had presented itself. How was he supposed to get up there?

He _could_ fly, of course.

With his one attempt at flying already having been a success, Trunks felt certain that he could dash up to the top window with no problems at all. Or, he felt certain for the most part, except for the fact that there was still that looming threat of being shot at, an uncomfortably sensation that he never wanted to experience again. And he was afraid that he wouldn't be fast enough to scale to the top of the huge tower without being noticed, seeing as his clothes were still soggy after that little expedition through the fountain, and they were weighing him down even further at the present. But he had no choice but to try - how else would he get to the top of the tower before Gohan and his mother noticed his absence?

And he was only driven further to act by this idea, thoughts of Gohan catching him before he could make any real progress enveloping his calculating brain. That would be humiliating, to have come this close to breaking into the palace only to have the Great Saiyaman to stop the trespasser in his tracks, even when the Great Saiyaman himself was likely going to try committing this same crime. He allowed a small sigh to escape his lips as he furrowed his purple eyebrows, giving a little nod at this prospect. He was certain he could do this. He had to.

So, without further debate, he quickly glided upwards, skimming the the smooth surface of the palace and reaching the top in only seconds. He quickly planted his feet on the balcony as a hand flew to his tiny chest as though to stop his racing heart, and with his eyes closed, he waited. After ten seconds, he managed to release a tiny breath of relief as he dared look down from his perch, spotting no suspicious guards from this incredible height. And as further reassurance, he could hear no bullets making their way towards him.

But as he spun around, he gasped at the realization that he wasn't alone. He stepped back and pressed himself against the iron wrought railing, not even caring about whether those gunmen saw him or not, as they weren't even a real threat. Here, up here on the top floor of the palace with him, was a far larger problem. And quite literally, too.

Here was an overweight man, his face hidden in a bundle of red scarf with only his scrutinizing eyes reveal. Trunks' eyes drifted down to a sword held in the man's shaking grasp, allowing a slight utterance of disbelief to escape his throat. This was a sword, more specifically a katana, something that his father had always described as one of the deadliest weapons for Saiyans as it could penetrate armor that even ki blasts couldn't. It was an object of his father's loathing due to unpleasant memories in the past of having his tail chopped off, and though Trunks had no tail to be removed, the sheen of the object with the sun's last rays didn't appeal to him.

Trunks' breathing ceased as the man slid forth quickly and with surprising grace and agility, one hand still holding on to the hilt of the weapon. Then, before Trunks knew what had happened, the man took his chubby fingers and furled them into a fist, pulling back and using every ounce of energy in his jiggly arm to clout Trunks' chin with an underhanded blow. And Trunks, still stupefied from this mysterious man's presence on the top balcony of the king's palace, hadn't raised his defenses. He took this punch at full intensity, staggering back with the man's unsuspecting strength. He was knocked out almost immediately as his head jerked back, the force pushing him back to tumble over the edge of the railing headfirst.

The fat man immediately reached his arm out and grabbed the unconscious boy by his ankle, sheathing his katana as he tugged Trunks back into the darkness of the unlit room. It wasn't the king's bedroom, as Trunks had expected quite childishly, stuck in his fantasies of what a king should really be like. It served more as a storage room, being at the top of too many staircases for the old king to climb anymore, let alone every day. The mysterious man grunted slightly as he laid the boy gently on the floor next to a pile of crates, a sneer forming underneath the red cloth that covered his face. He waved his limp hand through the air, his knuckles red from having hit Trunks so hard, as he gazed down at the unsuspecting boy. Even he was amazed that he had been able to knock out a demi-Saiyan, but he only mumbled sourly, "This job isn't worth all of the jelly doughnuts in the world."

And so he crouched back down next to the boy's body, pushing his unruly, black hair out of his narrowed eyes as he waited for his next assignment. He gritted his teeth and pulled the scarf down from around his face, wrapping his tender fist up in it. In all honesty, he felt as though he had just punched a brick wall, though he didn't cry. He complained, yes, but he never cried. This time, however, he settled for a scowl instead of mumbling a string of complaints to himself, hoping that his next job would be less painful.


	6. Chapter 6

**Why is this the most fun, awkward pairing ever? Oh, and I have to apologize about taking forever between chapters. Writer's block is evil, but fear not - spring break comes in a week! That means lots of writing time and lots of time to get going on _Finding Rubble from Rubies_ again, seeing as I have lots of ideas. Anyways, enjoy!**

Only a blur to the human eye, Gohan had managed to run from the alleyway back to the palace within only two minutes, leaping over busy intersections with a yelping Bulma tucked under his arm. She dug her manicured nails into his shirt sleeve, her expression one of horror at every car they barely made it over and every pedestrian they nearly plowed over. But Gohan was careful, his reaction time being much faster than that of the poor Bulma's - he could easily see everybody and everything that served as an obstacle. So whereas he knew that he was really dodging everything with a great enough distance between it and himself to feel comfortable, Bulma didn't.

The worst jump came when they reached the edge of the crowd, where Bulma was too busy covering her face in an attempt of maintaining her secrecy to protest. They got so close that Bulma was afraid Gohan was going to dash straight through the mob of people, which was dispersing at an alarmingly slow rate after waiting for the famed billionaire to come back and smooth over the mess she had placed herself in. But only a few feet away, as she peeked out cautiously from under her purple shawl, Gohan made a jump. And it wasn't just a jump. With a jerk of his legs to bend, Bulma jarring in his grip as he did so, he sprung up from the ground with full force. And Bulma's eyes widened as she gazed down at the crowd below them, having just cleared a fat, bald man as Gohan pulled his legs upwards, saving him from a lethal blow with his own speed. And the pair of them continued rising, rising above the crowd, with Bulma stiffening in his grasp. Gohan wasn't even bothering to use his ki to ascend to such a height. It wasn't from flying at all.

Gohan touched down on the other side of the cobblestone, a little unsteady after having committed such a feat but able to quickly regain his balance. And Bulma's stomach lurched as he sped on, escaping the crowd. He had just jumped over a enormous crowd, extending for at least hundreds of yards, with no ki involved. That, she thought, was amazing. And what was even more amazing was that nobody had spotted them, speculating over what a man was doing with a woman in his grasp, able to clear the unimaginable group of people who had flocked here to see these two just half an hour earlier. She supposed, however, that though the jump had seemed to last an eternity, it had only lasted a few seconds at most in reality. But it had managed to take her breath away all the same.

After leaving the crowd far behind, the pair reached the front gate of security that was protecting the front garden that Trunks had already made his way through. There, Gohan braked to a stop by the low-rising wall the younger demi-Saiyan had climbed over earlier, billows of dust rising from the dirt pathway. He glanced around to make sure that the guards around the corner hadn't seen them before he dropped Bulma to the ground, trying to do it as quickly as possible so as to assure he didn't graze her rear end. He certainly didn't need another round of blushing from a feat such as that; they had already wasted enough time, and he was determined to have this case solved by the time the sun set.

They didn't have much time for such a goal to be accomplished, though, Gohan mused as he looked to the sky. The mighty, orange sphere of light was already dangerously close to the horizon, and it seemed to be moving fast. But before he could worry about this, he heard a certain blue-haired woman hacking at his feet, rather disoriented from being dropped so quickly. He glanced down with wide eyes as she pulled the purple shawl out of her eyes, looking up at him angrily as she asked, "What kind of a stunt are you trying to pull, Gohan?" He blinked vapidly as she clarified, "You just dropped me like a sack of potatoes!"

"Sorry, Bulma. I didn't mean to," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he extended the other for her to take. She did so in a disgruntled manner, clasping her bonier fingers into his thick grasp and gasping as he immediately pulled her to her feet. With the weight of Tien's training coat and the quickness with which she came to be on her tall heels, she stumbled forth and latched herself on to Gohan's shoulder. Then, after a second of reacquainting herself to the matter of balancing, she pulled away from him slightly to only glare. This prompted him to innocently ask, giving a little shrug of the shoulders to pass of his discomfort, "What's wrong?"

"You're not very good with women, I take it," she huffed, but he could say nothing in return. After glancing about cautiously, she pulled the purple shawl down from her head and primped at her blue hair, scowling at how tangled it was becoming with this journey. Then, after quickly pulling herself together, she asked, "Why the heck did you run that whole way? You jumped over the crowd, for Kami's sake!"

Gohan blinked a few times, his eyes on the shorter woman by his side. "Did you want me to walk? I thought we were in a hurry, Bulma."

She gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to knock some sense into him with her handbag. "Walk?" she scoffed incredulously. "Of course I didn't want you to walk! You can fly, you know!"

"Fly?" he asked, as though the thought had never occured to him. He looked ambivalently upward, as though searching for some way to justify his actions, before explaining, "Well, I couldn't fly, Bulma. I'm not Saiyaman anymore, so I had to run. That way if I was caught, nobody would think anything was out of the ordinary."

Bulma's jaw dropped at this response. She shook her head to herself before she could retort. "Nothing out of the ordinary?" She brought her face up to his, a hand still clenched onto his shirt sleeve for support. "Are you kidding me, Gohan? You jumped over a crowd half a mile wide!"

"But I didn't use my ki."

This defense of his actions only had Bulma exhale in defeat, realizing just how hopeless all of the Sons really were. Or at least the males in the family. Certainly, certainly, flying wasn't ordinary, but as long as they weren't using ki, it was perfectly normal. That whole family had really been living in solitude for too long, away from the reality of normal people's lives. Some day, she was certain, the whole lot of them would turn out just like Master Roshi, probably insane to start with but crazier after becoming a hermit.

Gohan was smart, she had to admit rather begrudgingly, but he lacked the common sense most young people did in this day and age. Of course, he lacked it in a different sense, but he lacked it all the same. However, she couldn't help but admire his ability to escape from the real world - he could hide in his little martial arts world, whereas she was stuck with her duties of being president of Capsule Corporation.

With a sigh of resignation, she pulled her shawl back over her head and decided to simply dismiss this whole matter of him jumping over a multitude of crowds, streets, and cars. It would be nightfall before she would be able to convince him that jumping over people was not normal, and so she decided to simply move on. "What's the plan now?" she asked, pulling the purple shawl over her as she noted just how heavy these training clothes were. Why had Tien needed such heavy clothing to train? Wouldn't a simple t-shirt and pair of jeans have sufficed?

"I'm not sure," Gohan admitted, not acknowledging the abrupt change of subject. He felt a tinge of a blush come to his face again as she leaned closer into him with the weight of the training clothes. He was engaged, he forced himself to remember. Engaged to Videl, and nothing that Bulma did was going to tear his sights away from the one woman for him.

"How about we start there?" she asked, pointing towards the front gate. From the angle they were standing, the lurking guards couldn't be seen. But Gohan wasn't so certain.

"How are we supposed to get through the castle from there? There's security, Bulma," he said, furrowing his thick eyebrows as he scrutinized the scene. They could, theoretically, just fly to the castle. But there was the matter of secrecy to be considered, so it wasn't as though they could simply storm their way through. If his father had been able to get through the whole Red Ribbon army at the age of twelve, why were they having trouble? Of course, he supposed that his father had murdered many men that had been in his way, something he had told him before that he regretted doing. And killing good guys trying to defend the king's palace would be outright despicable, though Gohan knew he had the power to do it.

Bulma placed a pondering finger to her chin, exposed even in the shadow of the shawl over her head. Finally, she offered, "There's got to be a back way, hasn't there?" She looked up to see the expression of uncertainty on her friend's face, only to make her support her theory by stating, "Well, there has to be a door for the people behind the scenes. I mean, it's not as if the milkman delivers directly to the front porch step, right?"

"I guess, Bulma..." he said hesitantly, but before he could refute this idea, she tugged eagerly at his sleeve.

"That's it! There has to be some place so inconspicuous that the public wouldn't know about, some place where the trash collectors come and where the chefs seem to disappear without ever being seen. I mean, really - how many people have you ever seen coming in and out of these front doors? And how many people must work in a palace of this size? They have to have a place to come and leave every day!" At the skepticism still on his face, she continued rather boldly, "You have to trust that I know about these matters, Gohan. The palace might look all nice and clean, but just like with Capsule Corp., there's a staff behind the doors. And they have to have some way to come and go, right?"

Gohan clenched his teeth and gazed dubiously up at the looming building. The plan seemed to be a lot of work when they could just sneak in the front way. And there was also no guarantee behind it, bringing him to say, "I know, Bulma, but-"

And before he could finish, he heard her huff with frustration. He turned his attention back to her as she took her weight off of his arm and stepped back in an attempt to support herself in the heavy training coat. "I get it, Gohan," she snapped heatedly with one hand to her hip, one out to help keep her balance. "You think you can come up with some better idea just because your in college and get good grades, right?" He uttered a feeble sound of discord, only to have his attempts of redeeming himself brushed away. "Well, I don't care if you don't want to follow my plan, Gohan. I mean, I'm only the president of Capsule Corp., right?" Another tone from his throat. "I'm going to do what I want to do, and if you want to follow, you can. Okay?"

The man watched with slumped shoulders at the woman attempted to storm off on her own, only to have her legs tremble a few steps off and give. She fell to her knees on the dirt road with a scowl, though she survived without scraping.

Gohan quickly darted towards her and knelt down, grabbing her by the elbows and helping her to her feet again. "Fine, I'll help, Bulma," he told her in an attempt to keep her from doing anything stupid. The woman couldn't even hold herself upright in this disguise; how was she supposed to find clues when she was clumsily falling down on the job? But he didn't notice as a sly smirk appeared across her lips, having gotten just the reaction out of the manipulated man she had hoped for. Gohan, as were all Sons, was too darn lenient for his own good.

Once the two of them were back on their feet, Bulma making sure to latch on to him as tightly as she could, Gohan gulped, "Well, I guess we might as well get moving. Do you want me to... to help you?"

His words trailed off slightly and displayed a peculiar nervousness. It was then that she noticed his arm muscles were tensed up with this almost dread of the woman's touch, and she smirked devilishly. She did have a secret weapon against the man, something she fully intended using. So, with a powerful hand pressed ever so lightly against his chest, she batted her eyes and asked, "You'd do that for me?" After dating Yamcha for decades, the bumbling bandit turned suave ladies' man, she knew a thing or two about getting men to do what she wanted.

"Y-yeah," he stuttered, his ears turning red as he was reminded of just how awkward he really started to feel around women when he had first met Videl two years earlier. He was a teenager again when he was supposed to act like a smooth and sophisticated twenty-year-old. He eyed her manicured fingers and was paralyzed, hardly able to choke out the rest of what he was going to say. "We'll just sneak around the back, and... and... we'll look for... another entrance."

He ended his lame recap of their plans as he eyed her traveling hand warily. The manicured hand finally landed on his shoulder again, allowing him to sigh with relief as she said, "Sounds good!" And the two simply stood there for a few seconds before Bulma prompted him with a raised eyebrow, "Well?"

"Oh yeah!" he exclaimed, picking her up bridal-style. He was certain, this time, not to allow his hands anywhere her rear. The last thing he needed at this moment to relive that moment of horror when he realized just earlier where he had touched Bulma Briefs, president of Capsule Corporation. So as he scooped her up in his arms, almost dropping her as she nestled closer to him, he was certain to keep one hand on her leg, the other on her shoulder. With her cradled in this uncomfortable position, the rough fabric of Tien's training coat scratching at his palms, he kicked off of the ground at super speed.

He finally decided that flying would be the quickest way to get around the palace without detection, and so he channeled his ki in midair, stopping only for a brief second to allow Bulma a yelp with the sudden ascension. But her cry was drowned out by the sound of rushing wind as he blasted through the air, circling the castle at a dizzying speed. He performed several laps as he attempted to investigate all possible entrances without being seen at this blinding velocity. It wasn't until he felt a pair of nails dig their way into his shoulder that he even considered just how Bulma was taking this surveillance of the area. This brought him to descend and then to stop once the pair were safely hidden in a tree, its leaves rustling as he broke through several branches.

He glanced down at the woman in his arms, her blue hair puffed out and tangled. Then, so suddenly that it startled him, her expression switched from a dazed expression to one of rage. She immediately grabbed him by his blue, button-down shirt, not even giving a second thought as to whether he'd lose his delicate balance on the thin branch he was perched cautiously on, and yelled, "Don't ever do that to me again!"

"Sorry, Bulma!" he stammered, the blush to his cheeks rising again as he found his face dangerously close to that of the older woman's.

"Sorry, Bulma?" she sneered, releasing him as she crossed her arms while still in his grasp. "Sorry Bulma? That's all you have to say? You messed up my hair and lost my expensive shawl!" And that was when the demi-Saiyan noticed that she didn't have the purple cloth over her head anymore to keep it hidden from view. No, her conspicuous, blue hair was puffed out with the speed they had been going, and she still hadn't recovered from her motion sickness.

Gohan's eyebrows furrowed as he inquired gently in an attempt to stay on the woman's good side, "What happened to it?"

"What happened to it? What happened to it?" Gohan quickly noted that having a woman repeat his words twice was not a good sign, as she flailed in his grasp and struggled to sit upright, only to have the weight of the training clothes bring her back down. "It flew off my head while you were basically doing cartwheels! I have no idea of where it went, and it came all the way from Sector Fifteen! I paid thirty-two thousand Zeni for it!"

The man winced as he realized that if he did nothing, she would continue ranting about this all day. He quickly said, "I think I found a way to get in, Bulma."

These words stiffened the woman, who sent him one last glare before asking suspiciously, "You did?" Changing the subject was something the Sons weren't typically known for, and thus, she had a right to wonder just how he had executed such a task so perfectly. The only answer would be that he wasn't lying and he actually had found a breach in the castle's security. And she was pleased to hear that she was right about his words being the truth.

"A lot of the higher windows of the palace aren't secured, just because they don't expect people to fly right in. I think it'll be easier to get in through one of those rather than to try sneaking in through the servants' entrance, just because I'm pretty sure that'll be blocked off, too. Then, from there, we can probably get around pretty easily. It'll just be a matter of sneaking around and finding out exactly where the king's bedroom is, considering he was taken away in the middle of the night."

Bulma huffed, her arms crossed as she refused to be impressed by this man and his brains. Why hadn't she thought of something as simple as that? Perhaps because her mind wasn't simple, so complex that it overlooked the tiny details. Of course, that was her refusal to acknowledge Gohan's keen thinking, especially not when she was so angry at him for losing an expensive shawl of hers. So she only brought herself to shrug noncommittally while in his grasp, muttering sourly, "Whatever."

Gohan bit his lip as he stared down at the woman, wondering just why women had to be so difficult. Videl was the same way about wounds to her pride, something that perturbed him slightly. But he could only exhale slightly before kicking off once more, rapidly jetting through the air and on to a balcony towards the middle of the palace. Once landed firmly on this balcony, he sensed for kis but was immediately relieved to find that there were none in the room the large window led to. So, after setting Bulma down carefully next to him so as to free up his arms, he opened the locked door with his incredible strength. Then he quickly scooped the blue-haired woman back into his grasp and ran into the room before he was spotted, closing the glass-paned door behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

**If you've ever seen Scooby-Doo, you know that Freddy's words of, "Okay, gang, now let's split up," always end in disaster. Well, let's just say that a scarred Gohan probably shouldn't leave the side of an insecure Bulma. Enjoy!**

After assuring the window door was secured shut by giving the brass handle a small jiggle, Gohan set Bulma down. To his surprise and immense relief, he felt her smooth hands slide off of his shirt sleeve as she wandered off somewhere. He gave a small, contented breath before stooping down and inspecting the lock he had broken cleanly with his strength, a bit of the wooden door having gone with it. But he managed to fit the splintered wood back in so that from far off, at least, it would be an egregious mistake in intruding the palace.

Bulma abandoned Gohan in search of light, which was lacking in this room. There were a few last rays from the window panes, but other than that, the room was enveloped in darkness. She guided her hand blindly along the wall, tucking a blue strand of hair behind her ear as she did so, and finally settled it on the light switch. She managed a small smirk of pleasure as she give a carefree flick of her hand, illuminating the overhead lights and thus brightening the space with a soft glow.

She scowled as, after blinking with the sudden change of light, she noticed a mirror in front of her. Her short hair was a rat's nest, reminding her of the crazy Afro she sported only a decade ago. But that was horrendously out-of-fashion now, she feared as she pulled a comb from her handbag and quickly began attacking the clump on her head. Out of the corner of her eyes, after a few unsuccessful pulls at the blue mess, she glared at the rather unsuspecting man.

Gohan didn't notice the look of contempt even as he turned around. He allowed his eyes to trail curiously over the room, which had revealed itself to be a bedroom. There was a clean, low-rising bed with white covers towards the center of the room, accented with magnificently flamboyant, blue pillows. He grimaced slightly at the gaudy, teal draperies hanging over the windows before pulling them down so as to keep any outsiders from noticing their arrival. Then, once the windows were covered, he allowed his eyes to set upon the disgruntled Bulma who was currently at war with her own hair.

He walked clumsily towards the center of the room, careful not to touch anything out of his fear of leaving tracks. So he simply stood and waited for Bulma to finish, his polished, black shoes sinking into the plush carpet. He observed Bulma from this distance, having determined that it would be safe with her distracted with herself. There was a frustrated sneer on her face as she pulled particularly roughly at one bunch of hair, and he knew that she was angry at him. Angry for him having messed up her hair? Angry for him having lost her shawl? He couldn't be certain, but he had no idea of why she was so angry. Perhaps it was her just taking out her feelings from having faced the crowd earlier; he had been the one to scoop her up into his arms and fly her away as the Great Saiyaman, only further drawing the media's attention.

But he found it difficult to suppress a smirk as he noticed how hunched over her tiny frame was, and she didn't even notice. Tien's training coat wasn't doing any favors for her spine, but so caught up in how terrible she looked at the moment, she had forgotten about the matter of it weighing her down completely. So had her whole spiel earlier about her having to lean against him for balance all been an act? Maybe. Gohan could never be sure of what these women wanted, but it all seemed to end up being the same thing to him. It was power.

Bulma seemed to notice him admiring her and all of her quirky habits from far away, as she turned her swiveled her head slightly so that she could keep one eye on the mirror, one eye on the man. He quickly blushed at her realization and, chagrined by his own staring, made his way towards the window again. It was when he had his back turned towards her that he finally said, "I think you need another disguise, Bulma." He gritted his teeth slightly, realizing that she probably wouldn't take it the right way.

"Why?" she automatically asked in a rather defensive tone. She crossed her arms so that she wasn't tending to her hair and turned her head so as to scrutinize the tall man. Her eyes narrowed, the comb still tight in her grasp as she said, "You think I can't handle this outfit, do you?" There was no denying that, in all actuality, she probably couldn't handle the extra weight on her body. She was able to carry it around in her arms, yes, after years of massive clothes shopping. But she never wore anything this heavy, and the strain on her spine was a little too much for her. She wouldn't confess to that, though, and especially not for a Saiyan. After living with Vegeta for over a decade, she had learned to put up barriers when it came to revealing discomfort.

"Well..." Gohan trailed off, turning around to see the rather angry woman. He was cut short, however, by a snort of disbelief.

"I'm the president of Capsule Corp., Gohan. I've been to Namek and back, so I think that one little coat won't be too much for me to handle," she pouted, using all of her willpower to straighten her posture. Her heels seemed to be giving slightly, but she didn't pay them any mind.

Gohan sighed slightly but decided that protesting would be fruitless. Both she and Vegeta were the most stubborn people she had ever seen, a reason why they were so often at loggerheads with one another. It would be of no good to tell Bulma that she was wrong about being able to wear Tien's heavy training coat, so he decided to change the subject by saying, "You don't think that anybody saw us come in, do you?"

Bulma's immaculately trimmed eyebrows were furrowed at this second successful attempt for the demi-Saiyan to change subject within only a matter of minutes, but she shrugged it off. "No, I don't think anybody saw us, Gohan. You're too paranoid, you know." Her grip loosened slightly on the comb as she marched forth in an attempt to display her strength. But within only a few steps, with her mind focusing so hard on not making a fool of herself, the inevitable happened; after stepping forth, her legs wiggled and gave in to the weight.

To her displeasure, Gohan was by her side more quickly than she could have imagined possible. She found herself in his arms again, the man looking any way but towards her. He still felt uneasy, she deduced by the tinge of red on his cheeks. But he guided her along to the bed, where he decided it would be worth leaving some evidence to allow Bulma a seat. After being on her feet in that coat for a while, he thought the woman deserved a break.

Bulma sank into the soft mattress of the bed as she sat on it, immediately relieving her poor legs. The training outfit was still taking its toll on her torso, though, and for a moment she considered just heeding Gohan's advice and taking it off. But she never liked giving in to somebody and acknowledging that they might actually be right; she would rather die than give the person that satisfaction. Vegeta would never let it go, and Trunks would tease her about all of her outfits being too heavy for her, so she had learned never to trust somebody of Saiyan origin. Except perhaps Goku, but that was because he was too dense to offer any sound advice.

When she glanced up at the looming Gohan, who had his arms crossed rather condescendingly, she realized that he was right. "Let's get you another outfit, Bulma," he insisted, and before she knew it, he had paced over towards a wardrobe. He placed a hand on the dull, bronze knob and pulled it open gently, revealing a vast array of outfits. Then, as he tugged a hanger free of the rack, he allowed a small whisper to say, "Bingo." It had King Furry's crest on it, and it appeared to be an outfit of a security guard - it looked similar to the ones he had seen outside, at any rate.

He spun around and displayed the dark, bulletproof vest and pants to the blue-haired woman. "What do you think, Bulma? It's kind of heavy, but it's better than Tien's outfit, anyways." But the woman's response wasn't what he wanted.

She turned her nose towards the air and snuffed, "_Please_, I'd rather get caught in this than in that." In all honesty, she just didn't want to give into Gohan but really didn't have a viable excuse. No, it looked as though Gohan was going to get the best of the stubborn woman this time around.

"But, look! It's really spiffy, Bulma!" he said as he approached her, almost cradling the outfit. It must have belonged to a fairly small man, as it looked as though it would almost fit her. She clenched her teeth as she dared look at it, but she couldn't give in. No, she would never give in to a Saiyan - if she got used to doing that, Vegeta would surely take advantage of her.

"I told you that I'm not going to change, Gohan, and that's final." She gave a small huff, signaling that she wanted to be left to her own devices.

Gohan, however, was persistent. He just about shoved it into her arms as he advertised the outfit, "Look, Bulma! If you get shot, you shouldn't get hurt! And the fabric isn't itchy! And it's even got _pocket protectors_!" These details he prattled off, however, weren't enough to convince her. As he noticed just how insistent she was to refuse this more sensible style, the goofy smile slid off his face as he said in a hurt voice, "Okay, I get it, Bulma. You just don't trust me... You think I'm so dumb, just because you're the president of Capsule Corp."

And he turned his back to her, his shoulders slumped in rejection. He hoped that she would buy this ploy, a trick that he had often seen women use. In fact, she had used it herself just outside when convincing him to follow her plan. Now it was his turn if it would work on the opposite gender, and for a moment after he felt her hand on his shoulder, he thought it had.

He glanced back over his shoulder towards her with a grin on his face, but it quickly slid off as he noticed something about her expression. There was a sly smirk on the face of the sitting woman as she said, her voice sweetened with venom, "Fine, Gohan, I'll change into that outfit if you really want me to." His face flushed as he handed the bulletproof vest and pants over to her, wondering just what was on that woman's mind. And his arms stiffened as she grabbed on, pulling herself up closer towards him as she asked, "Do you mind being a sweetheart and helping me get this coat off? It's so heavy."

Gohan blinked innocently, uncertain of what she was up to. But he complied and, as she lifted her arms, easily slid the coat up from around her body. It revealed her in her business attire again, looking sharp save for the messy hair. Then, as he folded the coat over his arm, he watched cautiously as she smoothed out her dark pencil skirt. His eyes widened with fear as her small hands moved up to the buttons of her blouse and, from the top, she began unbuttoning them.

_"BULMA!"_ he screeched, quickly pulling her hands away from her blouse and into his own. _"What are you DOING?"_ The top few buttons had already been undone by the time he had pulled himself out of his stupor and managed to stop her, and he already felt a nosebleed starting up. He turned his eyes away from the woman awkwardly, his face violently red.

"I thought you wanted me to change, Gohan," she said with a flutter of her eyelashes, playing stupid with him. Then, as he spared a glance back towards her face, she gave him one of her suggestive winks, nearly giving the poor man a heart attack. "You're the one that insisted I get out of that outfit and get a better disguise, and so I'm just changing."

Rather indignantly and with his eyes clenched shut now, he released her and made his way towards the door, going so far as to hide his crimson face in his hands. He placed one of his palms to his nostrils in hopes of staunching the nosebleed, though he was rather unsuccessful. In the nasally voice that comes with blocking ones nasal passages, he muttered, "I think I'm gonna go check out the scene." He set Tien's coat on an armchair sitting by the mirror, folding it neatly as he kept his eyes turned away from Bulma. But he dared a glance towards her and, with a gulp and another spurt of blood from his nose, saw her toss her blouse off and on to the bed. Then, to his absolute horror as he turned away and towards the door, he felt her approach him.

"C'mon, Gohan. Don't be such a prude," she coaxed him, placing her hand gingerly on his back as he bent down, the warmth of her fingers penetrating the cotton fabric against his skin. She felt his muscles constrict and, with a satisfied smile, she continued, "It's not as if you haven't ever seen me without a shirt on. I mean, heck! You've seen me _naked_ before!"

There was an utterance of disbelief from the man. "That was when I was _seven_!" he exclaimed with his eyes clenched shut.

"And what's the difference now?"

"I... I..." his phrases continued trailing off into nothing, until he gathered the courage to almost yelp, "I'm _engaged_, Bulma!" And his jitters were only further intensified as her hand slid up his back, forcing an involuntary shudder out of him. He quickly leapt out of her grasp and, without another word, he disappeared through the wooden door leading out to a hallway with a quiet thud.

Bulma watched the closed door and released a huff of anger. He had escaped, and there was no way that Bulma would venture out of this room without fully dressing. If a camera caught her half-naked, and in the king's castle, no less, that would be the end of her career. So with her teeth gritted, scowling at Gohan and his ability to slip away without staring at her long enough for her to catch a glimpse of his expression, she stalked back towards the bedside.

Changing was a long and slow process for Bulma, who was caught in her thoughts of Gohan. For a demi-Saiyan, he sure was a wimp. Videl was certainly in for a hard time, she snorted to herself, but at least he was faithful. Fidelity was rare in these times, she supposed, and that was something she wasn't used to dealing with. Even at over forty years of age, she was typically able to draw any male to her side. There was Yamcha, Vegeta, and, heck, even Goku at times. Master Roshi didn't really count, as he went for almost everything female. But, though Bulma had expected him to be bashful and awkward, she hadn't expected him to actually draw up the nerve to leave.

Maybe she wasn't as beautiful as she thought she was.

But she pushed that thought to the side and reassured herself that she was the most beautiful woman on Earth. Certainly, there were models out there, but she had some character to her. She was thin and young-looking for somebody of her age, so of course it wasn't her. What if it was, though? What if Gohan really thought she was some repulsive, old hag? Her eyes widened at such an idea, and the confidence in her posture faded along with her smile. Maybe she was really getting to be old.

She shook her mess of blue hair as she began replacing her pencil skirt for the pants, too short to conceal her heels. So she marched over to the wardrobe from which Gohan had pulled out this outfit and, with a quick search, located shoes that went alongside it. She bent down, still only wearing a brassiere over her torso, and began rummaging a drawer for socks to wear with it. Her face scrunched up with disgust at their smell, but before she could find a suitable pair, she heard the front door's hinges give a tiny squeak along with the bulky movement of a body.

She stood up straight and turned around, expecting it to be Gohan. She felt defeated and almost ashamed to face the man now, having some how been humiliated into thinking she was just some old lady now whose head was stuck in the past. However, to both her elation and to her fear, it wasn't Gohan at all. Her eyes bulged, her voice box unable to utter a sound.

This wasn't Gohan, though this was a very familiar, stout figure standing in a traditional warrior's robe, a katana held protectively before him. Her arms instinctively flew over her chest, her cheeks red with somebody catching her shirtless in the king's castle. But before she could decide between greeting him, apologizing, or screaming, the short man with his unruly, black hair said in a voice muffled by the red scarf over his face, "You're coming with me, lady." Then, with eyes narrowed, he added thoughtfully, "Just put a shirt on first. And don't make a sound."

She watched the long sword warily as he edged closer to her, and she immediately protested in a quavering voice "I-I don't-"

"I said, not a sound."

Her body stiffened in a way similar to how Gohan's did whenever he found himself around her, and she immediately felt ashamed for all of the times she had done such to him. She felt weak especially with these thoughts that she was not as young as she used to be, and now this man had demanded she put a shirt on! Was she really that hideous to look at? She almost felt like weeping over how ugly she must have been, but she kept her distraught eyes on the sword which seemed to gleam even only by the dim overhead lights. And she felt tears brim as she looked towards the man she had known for decades, his gaze being so business-like. He wasn't caught offguard by her being shirtless at all!

"Yaj-"

"Shut up."

"But-"

"No talking."

"C-"

"Shh."

His low, mumbling voice intercepted her every plea to at least tell her that she was still beautiful. She didn't even care if this man was capturing her, and that he was likely the one who had also captured King Furry. She didn't care that she didn't know where Gohan or Trunks were at the moment. She only cared that she wasn't ugly. That was all she had, besides money and smarts. And that was all that really mattered, right?

She sank to her knees and began a noisy wail, one that seemed to resound through the room. And the samurai's eyes widened with shock before he ran forward, clasping a clumsy hand over her mouth. Immediately, she began resisting, her tears drying up as she remembered the trouble she was in. One of her 'friends' were currently trying to kidnap her, which was not a good sign. Her survival instincts kicked in as she elbowed backwards, slamming the fat swordsman straight in the gut. He gave out a grunt and accidentally released his hand from her mouth, at which moment she took the time to scream, _"GOHAN! GOHAN! COME BACK AND HELP ME! YAJ-"_

But the rough, smelly hand was immediately clasped over her mouth again, and her body seized up as she found a katana to her neck. Then, with his teeth clenched with the forceful blow she had drilled into his poor, bloated stomach, he wheezed into her ear, "Shut up, lady, and get some clothes on. You're making me sick."

And with that, another wail ensued, this one silenced by the fat swordsman's hand.


	8. Chapter 8

**Kinda short chapter. I can't promise that the next one will be any longer, but there's definitely potential for a fight scene! Anyways, thanks, everybody, and I hope you enjoy!**

While Bulma was left to change, Gohan decided to use this free time to sneak around and investigate. Clearly, the blue-haired woman was not allowing any real work to be accomplished, seeing as they'd done practically nothing in the time they'd been on castle grounds. She had crashed her plane, chatted with him, and, overall, simply hindered his progress. Then she had to go ahead and throw a few close heart attacks into the brew, flirting with the unsuspecting demi-Saiyan and making him uncomfortable overall.

His chest was still pounding as he leaned against the wall outside of the bedroom, having found himself in a dark corridor. He didn't hear any guards, and he wasn't picking up any weak power levels. A quick glance around the area then assured him that security cameras had not caught him. He allowed a sweaty palm to slide on to this thumping heart and shook his head, cursing his luck. Any other woman would have been reasonable, but Bulma? She enjoyed the advantage she had over men, even if she was over forty-years-old. She was over twice his age and still able to get him blushing, a feat that no average woman could accomplish. But she was no average woman, Gohan thought with a tiny smirk, having remembered her from when he was just a young boy. No, she was extraordinary in more ways than even such a boastful woman would admit.

Gohan licked his chapped lips before prying himself from the wall, staying close as if he hoped he could lurk in the shadows. There were a few sconces of light lining this particular hallway, but overall, the corridor was extremely dim. Most of the energy was conserved for the lower levels, but he was still amazed at how dark they allowed this particular passageway to get. Conserving energy was very important in these times, he mused.

Before daring to round a corner, he peeked around it warily in search of a camera. But to his relief, there wasn't one hanging from the ceiling, threatening to reveal his presence in the castle. His confidence grew and a light bulb flickered inside his head as he found his eyes pressed to a large window leading out to a large balcony. It allowed a lot of the setting sun's light in, seeing as it was towards the western side of the building. A small grin found a place on his face as he stepped out from one corridor and into the vicinity, finding his way in an open sitting space.

Without thinking of any possible consequences, he allowed his sweaty hand to, after wiping it on his slacks, trail over an antique armchair facing the sun. Its fabric was faded with the light cast upon it, and he noticed a light layer of film over the wood from having not been dusted in a few weeks. He supposed that this castle was so large that it was impossible to clean every room every day, but he still found it hard to believe that a place so untouched could exist in the most important building in the world.

He sighed as he glanced over towards a sofa of this same material, thinking of how nice it would feel to get off of his feet. He was used to sitting more, what with all of the studying he did, and so even his strong legs were tiring slightly with his weight. But he didn't dare leave more than just a few fingerprints here and there - to sit on the sofa might give away his position, what with there being a possible alarm just waiting to be triggered. Of course, he could have simply been paranoid, but he always believed that being safe was better than being sorry.

He turned towards the window and looked at it, only veiled by thin, white drapes framing its sides. It allowed a reddish hue to dye the ornate rug laying across the area, also worn with age and sunshine. He found himself lost, his mind muddled, as he simply stared out the window and towards the setting sun. His mind was blank for the moment, unable to register just why he was there.

But after a moment of watching the sunset, he brought himself to focus on the task at hand. He could conduct an aerial search by jumping out of this window, his eyes lingering momentarily on its brass knob, though he wasn't certain of what he would be looking for specifically. The goal of this search seemed so intangible - was he to look for King Furry's room? And then what? The further along he came, the more hopeless and poorly planned this seemed. He and Bulma were in the castle, but what now?

He thought of turning back and telling Bulma that the two would take their clues and study them, but before he could put this to action, he heard a rather rough, high-pitched voice call his name. His name. And it was so familiar and so close, coming from behind him, that he instinctively turned around. He jumped back.

There was Goten, standing in a minaturized version of Tien's weighted training coat, which seemed to be Chiaotzu's, though it was ill-fitted for the opposite reason. Whereas Tien's coat seemed to envelope all of its wearers with its immense size, this one was stretched out across the nine-year-old's chest rather tightly, though Goten seemed oblivious to the discomfort. He was standing with a wide smile on his tiny face, looking up at his older brother with a hand scratching the back of his head, as he chirped again, "Gohan!"

It took a moment for Gohan to register this. Finally, after allowing his hands to collapse incredulously by his side, he mustered the strength to voice his confusion, "What the heck are _you_ doing here, Goten? I... I..." He was too baffled to continue, something that was rare from the intelligent demi-Saiyan who almost always found words for his thoughts.

The toothy grin didn't fade even as he moved his hands to his small hips, exclaiming, "I came to see you!"

"B-but..." And the man was simply dumbfounded, unable to speak another coherent sentence. What would his younger brother be doing in King Furry's palace? Could his father really be in on this kidnapping?

Goten saved him the trouble of saying anything by suggesting, "Let's play a game, Gohan!" And at that moment, the man could only realize just how loud his little brother was being. He immediately lunged forth and placed his hand gently over his mouth, trying to quiet his excited brother.

"Shh..." Gohan silenced Goten, kneeling down to his height. He swerved his head nervously around, afraid of an alarm triggering or a couple of guards appearing. But as the two waited, Goten fidgeting in his brother's hold, nothing happened. It was only the two of them.

Finally, Gohan released his hand from his brother's mouth and saw him immediately open his mouth to speak. But Gohan was too quick, and he ushered after taking a moment to compose himself once more, "What are you _doing_ here, Goten?" He completely ignored the proposal to play a game, knowing that this matter was too serious to brush aside. His brother might just be the next clue to this puzzle.

"Uuummmm..." he started as his large, black eyes looked upward ambivalently as though searching for some reasonable answer. However, his small head couldn't recall the alibi that had been fed to him in case of needing to expose himself, and so he simply replied, "I'm playing a game!" while tossing his hands innocently into the air. Gohan released a sigh of mixed frustration and confusion, shaking his head as he watched his brother.

"Listen, squirt, it's not smart to be playing up here," Gohan began, placing a hand on his brother's hand and taking the liberty to rough up the already wild hair. "Don't you realize that palace security has been tightened?" But at the blank stare he was receiving, he gave up. He decided to let Goten go for the moment, only relieved that he was alright.

Goten turned his head to look around with a dazed look to his eye, and his older brother pulled his hand back. Then, as though he had registered none of Gohan's warnings, he asked, "Have you seen Uncle Vegeta around here?"

"No," Gohan quickly said, taken off-guard once again. "Why do you ask?"

Under the man's suspicious gaze, Gohan could only innocently stammer, "N-no reason." He smiled hesitantly, clasping his hands in a rather nervous manner before him in hopes that Gohan would let the matter drop. And to his fortune, he did.

After a few more seconds, Gohan gave up with getting any answers from him, muttering, "I think you've been spending a little too much time with Trunks..." It was good that the Son family had a history of bad lying, as it really helped in unmasking exactly what happened. But as he stood up, giving Goten's head another rub, he asked, "Speaking of Trunks... have you seen him?"

He'd forgotten completely about the demi-Saiyan, though he felt certain that the boy would be alright. It didn't qualm whatever squashed fears still hiding in his heart, however, when Goten shook his head. "No..."

"Hrm," Gohan huffed a little incredulously, both of his hands on hips before he scratched at his whip-lashed head of hair. "_Well_, I think-"

Before he could devise a plan for finding the rascal, such as even doing so much as the simple act of sensing his ki, he felt Goten tug at one of his sleeves. He regarded the younger boy with surprise as he hissed uncomfortably, jumping in place with one hand clenching his privates, "I have to go potty!"

_"Potty?"_ Gohan asked as though he had never heard of such a thing. He blinked uncertainly a few times before the younger demi-Saiyan's strength successfully pulled the stunned older brother out of the waiting room, away from the sofa he had just been hiding underneath. But Gohan's mind kicked back into gear as he found his footing and stopped Goten in his tracks, whispering furtively, "You can't go potty now! We'll get caught!"

"But I have to go _now_!" the boy insisted, hopping up and down in place.

But Gohan easily pulled himself out of his brother's tiny grip and explained, "There's no time. We're in the King's palace - it's not as if they're going to greet us warmly in the bathroom with a box of fancy soaps. It's part of _breaking in_."

However, Gohan's words were lost as Goten resorted to the last weapon he had left. He turned around to face the man, wriggling pathetically in place, with a look to be pitied in those large, dark eyes. There was no resisting this power of adoration that suddenly swept over Gohan, who could only sigh with mild disgust. He was tired. And hungry. But most of all, he was tired. He didn't want to have Goten get them caught, even if a pair of demi-Saiyans could escape easily. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he just wanted to leave. He couldn't get anything done with Bulma, anyways...

Bulma.

Goten had stopped his display of innocence and stopped jumping altogether. Instead, he simply stood there, his arms hung by his side limply as he watched his older brother's head swerve in another direction, his forehead furrowed in concentration as he focused. There was a spike in ki and a woman's yelp towards that direction, and even Goten could figure out whose it was. But at that moment, Bulma's helpless screams were not at the top of his worries.

With a quick glance down, he saw a puddle of sticky yellow on the carpet below him, his pants clinging on to the liquid. He gulped guiltily as he saw Gohan look back at him, prepared to tell him to hide again, and then groan while planting his face into one of his hands.

"Are you _kidding me_, Goten?" the man asked angrily, shaking his head and briefly forgetting about the woman in distress in the next few rooms over. "You couldn't hold it?"

"You distracted me!" Goten cried indignantly, and indeed, a tear of embarrassment streaked down his face. "I told you I needed to go potty!"

"Yeah, but I thought you could _hold_ it!"

Under the rare and threatening glare of his older brother, Goten could only sniffle miserably, "But I couldn't..." He trailed off as he wiped that lone tear off of his cheek with his sleeve, then trying to stop up an incoming flow of snot with his forefinger.

Gohan, after a second's hesitation, knelt down to the boy. Though he inwardly thought about how he hoped Videl wouldn't want to have kids anytime soon if they were like this, he disguised this by instead saying to comfort him, "Listen, squirt. It's okay. Just... just stay here. I'll check up on Bulma really quickly, and then I'll come back to get you, okay?"

The little boy nodded, now nine-years-old and having peed all over himself. He certainly hoped that Trunks would never learn about this, even if it had been done for his father. But he remained silent as Gohan ruffled his hair and ran off in the direction of Bulma's nonexistent ki.

Gohan was quite oblivious to the treachery on his little brother's part. Instead, he continued running until he reached the doorway of the room he had left Bulma in, worry seizing his heart as he realized there was no ki in there. If anything happened to her, he knew that Vegeta would not be one to be dealt with. And so when he slammed that door open, not worrying about making noise anymore, panic nearly killed him.

He moved forth in the room quickly, his long legs nearly taking him in leaps rather than strides. The room, he realized, had the faint air of jelly doughnuts, for one reason or another. His dark eyes roved across the room, and the first thing he noticed was the open window with those gaudy teal draperies pushed aside. He marched assertively past the wardrobe where a fight had obviously broken out and towards the window, its lock still broken from his own intrusion. But nobody was hiding behind it - whoever had taken the president of Capsule Corp. hostage had long left.

Closing his eyes, Gohan cursed himself. He couldn't believe it. How had he let that woman escape from his grasp like that? He didn't want anything to happen to her, even though she had been purposely teasing him earlier. No, in fact, her protection was a matter of his own health. If anything happened to her, he had a feeling that Vegeta would not be happy. That Saiyan was fearsome enough during spars; Gohan didn't want to imagine what a real fight with him would be like.

With a sigh, Gohan tried sensing any large power levels in hope that Bulma energy would be alongside it. But the only one he could feel was Goten's in this general area. And for one reason or another, it was becoming larger.

Gohan froze as he felt his little brother's energy rise in the next room over. He lilted his head up towards the wall closest to Goten, the one with the large bed pushed up against it. His lips were parted in slight awe, slight confusion as he lumbered forth, running towards the door once more and past the mirror that Bulma had earlier scrutinized herself in.

It was definitely the power of a Super Saiyan.


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay, no real fight, but do you really want a couple of demi-Saiyans to beat up a few defenseless guards? I hope you enjoy - it's still quite a bit of action, though I apologize once more for a fairly brief chapter.  
**

Goten felt frustrated at best. First of all, he had peed himself to distract his brother while Yajirobe snatched Bulma up. Then, after Gohan had left in quite a hurry, not even minding to help his poor, little brother, the boy had heard voices down the hall. Guards. They must have come up to inspect the area, as he had noticed was being performed routinely, on the hour, to ensure that the kidnapper was not sticking around the palace. And so, even with urine clinging to his pants and to what had once been Chiaotzu's training coat, he knelt down to hide underneath the sofa.

This game of tricking Gohan really wasn't as much fun as Uncle Vegeta had described it to be, leaving the boy in tears as he sniffled pitifully in his hiding place. Certainly, it had been fun at first - but that was before he had to pee himself. Then there was also this wretched thing called his conscience that was biting at him, something that was lacking in the Briefs' family but all too prevalent in the Son's.

This guilt may have consumed him, and the pee may have damaged his reputation, but he couldn't just walk away from this game or Uncle Vegeta would personally pound his face in, just as had been promised. But what Goten couldn't believe was that his father had told him to play this game. _Go with Vegeta! It'll be fun!_

Some fun this was.

"Hey, I hear something!" Goten heard in the next room over, and he immediately stifled his whimpering and contented himself with a pout. But as he watched the guards' boots shuffle by, he simply couldn't contain himself. An unintentional yelp of self-wallowing was released from his throat, bringing the heads of rifles to be lodged underneath the sofa and direct towards his face.

"Who goes there?" a deep voice boomed, and Goten could only gulp. He hated guns as much as Trunks did. He'd tagged along with his friend while following a few of these schemes he had come up with, and more than once, the two had faced armed men. They'd only stolen a thing or two, and that had been when they were younger. But those men would always shoot at them as they would fly away, even with them only being children. The bullets thankfully only bounced off of their tender flesh, though it never felt good. Trunks had always hidden his own pain, but Goten could never help releasing a few involuntary twitches along with a shout or two. No, they certainly didn't feel good, though the punishment was never there, but rather when Uncle Vegeta took the liberty to personally pound humility into his son's chest and knock some common sense into Goten's.

His father would usually save him. Not from the guns, but rather from Vegeta. He would always appear to bail his son out, the one thing that Trunks was always rather envious of. But now, his father wasn't here to save him. In fact, it had been his father to push him to help Uncle Vegeta. _It'll be fun. Don't worry. Vegeta's got something nice planned for you!_ And even Goten's rather slow brain began to turn, wondering just whether or not his father really knew what Vegeta had in store for him.

One of the gun's barrel's nudged Goten in the cheek, forcing him back further into the mess of lint and forgotten pennies. He gave a small sneeze, gulping immediately as one of the men knelt down. There, he found himself face to face with a man, those confused eyes lurking just out of his hiding place, who said, "It's just a boy!"

The surprise in his voice marred Goten's cheeks with a faint red. Just a boy? He wasn't all that into pride and dignity, but he thought that with all he'd put up with, he deserved more recognition. He had put up with Uncle Vegeta for nine years of his life, a rather incredible feat to add to a list of what he was certain was compiled of incredible feats. But he did not speak, only gulping nervously as the man said, "Come on out, boy!"

Goten could only reluctantly obey, uncertain of himself at the moment. He wriggled himself out of the hiding place as the men withdrew their guns, quickly backing away after getting back to his feet. His breathing shallowed nervously as his pupils dilated. There was no reason to be scared, but in this place, he felt alone. He had been a bad kid. He had distracted Gohan from saving Bulma when he had the chance, and he had done it for a man who never so much as flinched when inflicting damage upon him.

What was this mess he had gotten into?

His wide eyes darted about nervously as his heart raced. He allowed those large, dark orbs to swivel about, landing upon each of the friendly faces that grinned at him, wondering just what this boy was doing but knowing that he could mean no harm. He was, after all, just a little boy. One was confidently leaning against his rifle, the other allowing the sliver of a smirk to peek out from behind a flourishing moustache. There was a large dog behind them regarding his nails rather nonchalantly, not paying the slightest attention to this Saiyan who was merely a boy in their eyes.

"Don't get antsy," one of the men said, giving a slight laugh as he did so. "We're not going to hurt you." He waved his hand as though flicking a fly away and looked over Goten, intrigued by the odd outfit. Then, without recognizing these warning signs, he asked, "Where are you from? Is your mommy visiting?"

There were more shallow breaths in response before he pressed in a more reprimanding manner, "_Well?_ It's not safe to be around here - the king was just kidnapped earlier, you know. You really shouldn't even be up here." He cocked an eyebrow, expecting something from the boy. But Goten was about to give him more than even he had expected.

The room flashed with a light so blinding, the guards staggered back, the dog allowing a whimper to escape his throat as he brought a paw up to his eyes. The guards didn't shoot in fear that they would hit the boy, but they didn't know that the boy was indeed what they should have targeted, his skin glowing faintly after the sudden shock of the wave faded. His now-golden hair stood up on ends, and the fear that had been in those dark, innocent eyes was quickly replaced by a determination in those of blue.

He curled his fists and hunched his shoulders, ignoring the wet spot clinging to his pant legs. His heart slammed against his tiny rib cage, though he couldn't muster the courage to actually fight and defend himself. He was still scared, only with an uncertain anger clouding his senses. He had been treated wrongly, and just as Trunks had told him to do, it was his time to stand up for himself.

_"Holy..."_ was all that escaped the other man's mouth, his cocky stance having been lost in this blinding confusion. He blinked several times as he stared at the golden boy, automatically bringing the transceiver in his pocket up to his mouth. He clicked the button on the side and shakily yelled, "There's a crazy kid up here on floor 27! He... he-"

But the transmission was cut as the bulky transceiver jumped out of his grasp, landing on the floor and falling to pieces with the battery knocked out. He gulped, having released his grip as the boy's aura melted the object in his hands. _Melted._ He clearly wasn't being paid enough for this job.

The dog and other man were similarly knocked into a dazed stupor as the watched the boy glowering at them, snot dribbling down his tiny, upturned nose. He brought one of those sleeves of the frock-like training coat up to his nose and wiped away the excess mucus, sniffling as he did so. And he simply stood there with his mind too muddled to act, allowing waves of energy to bounce off of him and hit everything around him, from the dusty sofa to the window that continued pouring the dying day's light in.

Goten didn't notice the ki of his brother also rise. Within seconds, Gohan managed to make his way back into the sitting room, powering up before the guards could do so much as blink. They only leapt back as Gohan, this other kid with golden hair, advanced across the room. He was consciously making an effort to ignore them with the knowledge that they weren't important at the moment. What mattered more was calming Goten, whose power had flared for seemingly no reason at all. Save for the fact that he had peed himself, there really was no logical reason as to why his brother would be this upset. There was something, though, in the way in which Goten constantly averted his eyes, shaking with a mixture of feelings.

"Goten!" Gohan gently called, trying to soothe his brother so that the young Super Saiyan didn't bring down the whole building in this sudden temper. He had rarely seen the boy so angry, and that was more often when he felt betrayed. Gohan couldn't contemplate over this mystery, however, at the moment; the safety of all those presiding in the palace was up to him. And so, in an even calmer voice, he repeated, "Goten!"

The boy paid no attention to him, his guilty face buried in his sleeve as he turned his back to his brother. In an attempt to subdue this anger, Gohan stepped forth from the doorway, vacating it and allowing the guards to scramble out of the sitting room before peeing their own pants. The man sighed as he watched the two men and the dog, though he supposed that he couldn't blame him. At this moment, even being the super-powered freak he was, he also wanted to leave. There were pressing matters to tend to, such as where Bulma had disappeared to, and he couldn't spend this precious time playing baby-sitter. The billionaire had already slowed down his progress enough in this hunt for King Furry, and there was also the constant worry of Icarus' injuries fogging his mind.

"Come on, Goten," Gohan insisted with a bit more bite, getting a flinch from his brother. He huffed with sudden frustration as he saw no other reaction, and within moments, he was by the young demi-Saiyan's side. He allowed an overbearing hand to land delicately on that fragile shoulder and said, "We're going home."

He waited for a moment, glancing about him nervously for signs of an army stampeding up the stairs, though he sensed no coming energies. There was still an anxiety that wrapped about his brain even with this relief. He had become so used to not being able to trust even his own mind, seeing as most of his foes could lower their power levels below detection. It didn't once occur to him that these were simply guards in the Earth military, not masters of the martial arts used to hiding their kis.

Finally, after what seemed to be minutes on end, Goten's silent blubbering ceased as he choked, "We're going home?"

Gohan nodded. "Yes," came his curt reply as he shut his eyes, feeling Goten small hands protectively wrap around one of his own. He ignored the sudden moisture touching his skin, choosing not to decide whether it was mucus or urine. At this moment, hygiene simply wasn't a priority.

Before he could decide exactly what to do, Goten's thin, pitiful voice squeaked, "Will you _please_ not tell Vegeta?" It was begging, pleading that the man not tell of his weakness, lest the Saiyan Prince choose to beat him up. And though Gohan's body gave an involuntary jerk, he quickly agreed. It was best not to question Goten when he was in such a weak state.

"No problem, squirt," he said half-heartedly, a fake smirk on his face while the pair powered down as one body. But there was no time for formalities, as Gohan felt warm bodies ascend the palace. He quickly bent down, tucked Goten under an arm, and ran straight towards the large window. Then, after breaking his second lock that day, he soared through the pinkish skies, leaving behind dozens of guards who would only gape at his dark silhouette against the clusters of rosy clouds.

Gathered as they were, no guard would be patrolling the upper corridors. Back up in that top storage room sat a fat swordsman, a thin demi-Saiyan, and a billionaire with hair the color of the sea's rolling foam. Two out of three of them were unconscious. It was only Yajirobe who had his chubby arms crosses across his flabby chest, leaning against a box rather impatiently with his captives on either side.

The swordsman lilted his eyes up to see a dark shape appear on the balcony, though the pointed hair gave the man away. He only grunted in recognition as Vegeta came into the light, his features more pronounced even with the dim lighting this attic provided. The Saiyan scowled as his eyes roved over the three, landing suspiciously on the last one, who was still shirtless save for her brassiere. He immediately brought that devilish gaze upon Yajirobe, who protested, "I swear, I wasn't doing anything! I found her like that, and before she could dress, she'd passed out in my arms! Just like that!"

The cruelty in the Saiyan's expression passed over the samurai, though. He only harrumphed before holding his gloved hand out in a demanding fashion, something at which Yajirobe's mouth opened with confusion. The demand was made clear, however, as Vegeta said, "Your dress."

"My _clothes_?" Yajirobe blubbered under the man's leer, pushing his large amount of weight off of the stony ground. He was so shocked that he didn't even correct him, explaining that it was the robe of a samurai, not simply a ladies' dress. "But..."

Vegeta only brushed away the unsaid protests, nodding firmly before darting his eyes back to his wife. But after waiting a little while longer without any results, he angrily asked, "What are you waiting for?" And the full force of those burning, black pupils was brought back upon the poor samurai.

"I... I..." he stammered, though his efforts to defend himself could not be brought to full fruition. A look of defeat crossed his flabby features as he sighed, "Fine." He rolled his shoulders with a sigh before raising his arms and bringing the orange, mat-like robe over himself, handing it over to Vegeta rather abashedly. It was a warm night, though the breeze still nipped at the exposed skin of his fat chest as he shivered in place, only a red cloth tied to serve as underwear and sandals on his feet to serve as footwear.

Vegeta grunted with acceptance as he held the robe before him, unfurling it out with an skillful flick of his wrists. Then he bent down and scooped Bulma up, wrestling slightly to get the robe on to her. It fit her extremely loosely, but it helped to keep her decent. It would be a quick flight back to Capsule Corp., though he wanted to risk nothing. If one photographer got a picture of the woman during that time, her career that she cared so much for would be gone.

He also picked up Trunks, lugging him over his other shoulder. Then, with only a huff, he darted off of the balcony, leaving a rather embarrassed Yajirobe to mumble, "Stupid Saiyan." Now all he had to figure out was how to get back home without walking out in only his underwear, or at least without getting caught. He glanced around, though the lack of resources in this attic did nothing to help.

This was going to be difficult.


	10. Chapter 10

**It has been several years since I have been on this site, and so I cannot promise that I will make regular updates, or really any updates at all! I apologize. I was inspired to write this chapter after remembering this site and revisiting some of my older works. So I promise nothing, but I still hope this does not disappoint.**

Bulma roused from her sleep feeling as though her head was stuffed with cotton. She placed a palm to her temple before glancing at the clock on her bedside table, realizing just why it was still so dark outside of her window: it was only five o'clock in the morning. After rolling her eyes upward to mitigate the effects of her stuffiness, she turned her attention to her right side and was immediately dismayed by what she didn't see. There were no signs of her husband, and on top of that, there weren't even any signs that her husband had been by her side at night, as could be told by the lack of creases and crinkles in the bed sheets.

She harrumphed before pulling herself upwards, only further bothering her headache-induced state. But before she could reach for the capsule of painkiller she always kept near her side, something slid off her, revealing the woman to only have a brassiere covering her chest. She curled her nose in distaste as she turned on the lamp and examined what had been on her, leading her to yelp in disgust immediately after identifying the artifact. It was Yajirobe's robe, of all things, and she slid out of the bed unable to imagine just how filthy the thing was.

"Gross," she murmured, leaving the thing on the bed as she paced towards her closet. She pulled on an inconspicuous night shirt, but not without examining her outfit. Her legs were outfitted with monochrome slacks of cheap polyester, and it took her a few glances in the mirror to remember exactly what had happened. She used a comb to begin taming her web of hair as she recalled Yajirobe intruding upon her while she had been changing, but nothing came to her memory after that. There had been a skirmish, though as worn as she was from adventuring with Gohan, it didn't take long for the samurai to overcome her.

She briefly wondered if the young man was fine despite his Super Saiyan capabilities. If he had been caught, then that would be her responsibility, she thought with her teeth gnawing her lower lip. But surely the boy would be smart enough to escape detection from a few half-wit guards. She had only been found in a moment of weakness, when she couldn't act due to her state of undress. Plus, despite her superhuman intelligence, she was only human physically - escaping wasn't so simple a feat for her. As long as Gohan didn't reveal his secret to somebody outside of the clan of Z Warriors, he should have fared well.

This made her wonder, however, just how Yajirobe had gotten past the demi-Saiyan when the man was supposed to be backing her up. Surely that idiot couldn't have fooled Gohan, unless the younger man was distracted by something more important. But what could be more important than the world's richest, most attractive woman? Whatever it was, it had to have been pretty frightening, bringing her to worry about him again.

But she quickly redirected her thoughts from the capable young man to the incapable samurai. Why had he targeted her? How had he even known her location? These questions forced her to furrow her brow, but as she glanced up in the mirror at herself, the wrinkles on her forehead brought a greater question to her mind. Was she really getting old?

Brief insecurity made the woman cross her arms defensively as she exited the closet, went through the bedroom, and made her way down a hallway. Her age would certainly explain why Vegeta never spent time with her anymore, and it would definitely explain both Gohan and Yajirobe's protests at her lack of modesty. If age was finally catching up with her, perhaps as punishment for her exorbitant lifestyle, then that could signal the end of her career. Besides her brains, what more did she really have to her than looks?

Her pathetic shuffling became more of a determined march as she heard sounds of the television resonating from the living room, and her hotheaded self grasped possession of her once more. Just as she expected, upon reaching the room's clearing, she saw her husband slumped back comfortably on the sofa in front of the early morning news program. His head was already turned in anticipation of her arrival, as he had heard her footsteps, and the expression on his face was just as obstinate as hers.

"_Bulma_," he addressed her, sneering with distaste when he saw the blood rush to her face. He pressed the mute button on the remote in his hand before dropping it to his side. "Did you get a good night's sleep? You certainly don't look it."

The malice smothered in his words brought her to curl her lip. "You're right. I didn't get a good night's sleep. I've kind of been having this nightmare that my husband's been trying to make my life as miserable as possible. _Oh_ _wait_. That's _not_ a nightmare." She placed her hands indignantly on her hips, matching his glare.

"Everything that happened yesterday was your own fault. You thought that you would like to play the sleuth, and it's only because of me that you escaped your own stupidity unscathed."

"_My_ own stupidity?" she nearly shrieked, throwing her hands emphatically up into the air. "Last time I checked, _you're_ the bozo who thought it would be a _great_ idea to kidnap Earth's king!"

"I did no such thing," Vegeta spat, throwing his arm over the back of the sofa so as to get a better look at his distraught wife. "For a scientist, you don't seem to be very aware of the concept of having evidence to back your claims." Then, knowing that he could push her even further, he goaded, "Unless, of course, you did happen to find something that would incriminate me in your little scavenger hunt yesterday. Something which I highly doubt, given your ineptitude..."

The scientist bared her teeth, stepping forth offensively. "I'll have you know that I have _plenty_ of evidence that would put you behind bars!"

"Oh yes? Then produce it for me."

The two stared one another down before Bulma barked, "You know that training coat you staggered in wearing yesterday morning? Well, I got Gohan to analyze it, and he's confirmed that it's Tien's. Furthermore, there's hair from a white cat that was on it - a white, _outdoor_ cat, that is."

"Are you accusing me of petty theft or joining a humane society?" the Saiyan leered, unable to suppress a grin of victory. The woman looked taken aback, though she quickly recovered.

"I'm just stating facts that can't be disregarded, despite how miniscule they may seem. You haven't heard me out." After waiting for Vegeta's face to revert to its stoic default, she continued, "You were wearing that thing to hide the fact that you had been _stabbed_, as is proved by the blood stains in the fabric and by the scar on your abdomen you had tried hiding from me. The wound was too severe for a knife, and there's only one man who we know who wields a sword anymore: the same one who kidnapped me!"

"So what are you insinuating exactly? That simply because that buffoon, Yajirobe, happened to kidnap you automatically makes him a prime suspect in kidnapping the king? Even if that wasn't a logical fallacy, you would still have to explain why I would have the same motives as a man you claim attacked me. Assuming that Yajirobe did indeed kidnap that mutt, would that not make me seem more heroic, having sustained injuries by the kidnapper's hand?"

"Ugh! You're incorrigible, you know that?" Bulma walked up to him, blocking his view from the anchorman talking silently on the television. "If you haven't had any interaction with Yajirobe, then explain how I ended up here! The security in this place is tight enough where that loser wouldn't just be able to parade in like he owns the place! Somebody had to have let him in, or maybe somebody met him before that even became an issue."

"This 'loser', as you call him, did manage to break into the King's doghouse, which is not unimpressive with the heightened security after the dog's kidnapping."

"Please, comparing Capsule Corp.'s security to King Furry's is an insult. They refused to accept my plans for security due to expenses, yet they dish out millions on all of those guards annually! I've told them over and over again that robotic-based security is incomparable to the outdated security system they have now, but I think it has more to do with politics and precedents than actually getting the job accomplished!"

"And your point?" He arched an eyebrow, surprised by this tangent.

"My point is that Yajirobe could _not_ have broken into Capsule Corp.!" Bulma seethed, clenching her fists by her sides. "I personally had a hand in this security's design!"

"Oh, just like how you had a hand in designing that plane you nearly crashed yesterday? You know, they could revoke your license, except you don't have one... That's a pretty big offense, or so I hear... And then there's that little matter of you trespassing on castle property..." He wrinkled his nose and smiled as though the idea had just come to him. "The way I see it, it seems that you're the one who will end up behind bars."

Bulma's blue eyes lit up with hatred for the man sitting casually in front of her. He was so relaxed, his lines coming as naturally as they would have had he rehearsed them a thousand times. His wife, on the other hand, was unable to speak. She resisted the urge to slap him, knowing that such an act would do more harm than good, and stalked out of the room.

After her abrupt departure, some feeling akin to guilt prodded Vegeta. He acknowledged that she was far from being an enemy, though that would be true only as long as she stayed a distance from this case. The scientist could easily jeopardize his mission if she continued putting herself in danger, and Kakarot's first unfortunate offspring was not helping matters. By bringing his overinflated ego, believing that he alone was intelligent enough to solve this case, Gohan was risking both his wife's career and her health. By some stroke of luck, Yajirobe managed to snatch her out from Gohan's grasp, which would hopefully dissuade the demi-Saiyan from inviting her back for a second round.

What baffled him most was why Bulma would continue with such a futile quest - the woman didn't even know what she was looking for, merely contenting herself with seeking 'evidence'. She believed it to be her civic responsibility to involve herself with this case because she suspected the kidnapper to be him, and she knew the police would never find the truth without first gaining knowledge of his extraordinary powers, which all of the fighters agreed to keep secret for the sake of privacy. And so she was burdening herself with a task that was impossible: proving him guilty.

He really should not have spited her in such a way, because knowing Bulma, he realized that this would only encourage her to continue her search. His suspicions were confirmed as he listened for her, pinpointing her location to the kitchen. There, she was having a very one-sided conversation over the telephone, exclaiming angrily, "Yes, I know it's still dark out, but trust me; we have to get moving! I don't care what your mother thinks, and I don't care about Goten peeing himself! Uh huh? Yeah? Well you know what, your dad's not the only crazy one! I happen to have a psychopathic, mass murderer sitting on my sofa and watching television who thinks he can get away with being a real jerk! And- no, don't interrupt me, young man! I'll have you know that I was abducted by _Yajirobe_, of all the slobs, and I don't intend to let him get away with it! And no, once again, I _don't_ care that you have a couple of exams this week! This is the fate of the _world_, and I have to restore at least _some_ of my dignity after that media appearance that _you_ ruined! So come pick me up so that we can make a game plan! What!? You're _hanging_ _up_? Gohan, wait-"

A huff of anger resounded as the woman slammed the phone down on what must have been the kitchen counter, and Vegeta could make out a breathing pattern that always marked the beginning of tears for her. Vegeta groaned and stared at the carpet, realizing that he may have pushed her too far. If he didn't talk to her, she would really take matters in her own hands, which he did not want. So he stood from his perch and proceeded to the kitchen, unsurprised to see her turn her puffy-lidded face away from him with pride.

"What do _you_ want?" she snapped, unwilling to look at him and expose her vulnerability. She jerked away as he edged closer, and so he merely crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway.

"To apologize," he confessed, and she whipped her face around to assess whether she had heard him correctly. Being greeted with no smirk or other sign of sarcasm, she determined the gesture to be genuine. That didn't prevent it from being suspicious, though.

"Why would _you_ apologize to _me_? Are you looking to get me to confess to any other crimes I've committed?"

Vegeta narrowed his eyes but held back the nasty retort that first appeared in his mind. He quickly settled on saying, "No, though I must say that it is difficult to apologize to somebody as thick-skinned and foolish as yourself. Knowing that, you must accept my apology."

Bulma scoffed, "You call _that_ an apology? Contrary to what you believe, I don't have to do anything you tell me, especially when you're insulting me!"

"On Planet Vegeta, it was considered a great honor to receive a royal apology in our High Court, regardless of whatever accurate observations the King may have made concerning the subject in question," the Saiyan remarked, careful to control his rage at her refusal to consider his offer.

"Newsflash, Prince of Denial! Planet Vegeta is _long_ gone and so are its customs, and you'd better get used to that soon! Here on Earth, the king is gentle and polite, not an absolute tyrant who demeans his subjects by way of 'accurate observations'!"

"Despite your insistence, I will never abandon my culture. You have failed to impress me while attempting to integrate me into this subpar Earth culture. The planet would do better with more discipline, something that your dog of a leader never managed to entrench his subjects with. A class system would do much more nicely - it might teach you humans some respect for your superiors."

Bulma blinked, the puffy, pink quality of her eyelids having faded as anger once more replaced her despair. She reflected his stance by also crossing her arms and standing up. "You have got to be _kidding_ me! You can't really be _that_ dense, can you?" She moved closer to him, looking straight into his dark eyes with disbelief.

"You're the one who can't argue her way out of a paper bag. If you were really as intelligent and innovative as you claim to be, you would have realized my point long ago and already overturned this false monarchy! You certainly don't lack the resources to do so... So could that mean that you are merely scared? Or perhaps even... _stupid_?"

"Woah, woah, _woah_," Bulma snarled, and Vegeta immediately regretted taking such pleasure in riling her; this was counterproductive, as entertaining as it was. "Just because somebody doesn't agree with you doesn't make them scared or stupid, okay, genius?" She was standing directly in front of him at this point. "We all have _freedoms_ on this planet, just like how you can make the choice to be a complete blockhead! Just because you were raised vaporizing any living thing that didn't look at you the right way doesn't mean that it's like that here!"

Vegeta bit his lip and grinned. "You know, you remind me a lot of my mother." Bulma's eyes widened upon hearing this comparison - along with it being completely random, she had never heard him talk about any family members of his aside from his father. "Beautiful enough to serve as a queen, but not intelligent enough to act as a ruler."

At this, Bulma left the room. Before the Saiyan could even pull the bacon out of the fridge to consume raw, he heard the front door slam closed.

He reconsidered his protests about her joining the fray, seeing as he doubted that she would actually be able to accomplish anything that might hinder his progress. By the sound of her phone call to Gohan, it seemed as though the boy had given up on her, which was reassuring. Without any other outside resources, she would be bound by the limits of her species, which could either save her or be her downfall.

This could certainly be fun, as long as he could rescue her before she got herself killed.


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm sorry, I just can't help but make Vegeta mean. If I'm going to turn him into a pseudo-politician, I have to make up for it somehow. I was inspired again, which explains the quick update, though don't count on all updates (if any) being this quick.**

The first one awake in the Son household was nearly always the matriarch, who would be certain to sweep the floors, wipe down countertops dirtied by late-night binge eating, and prepare breakfast for her thankless family, who often took her work for granted. This morning, however, was different. Instead of stumbling into a dark kitchen in the wee hours of the morning, she found Gohan hunched over a textbook while balancing a bowl of cereal in his lap, constantly spooning the flakes into his mouth as he read. The overhead light made Chi-Chi blink several times before focusing on her son, who was too distracted by his studying to even muster a greeting.

"I'm glad your father's delinquent behavior hasn't completely rubbed off on you, Gohan," the woman chided, traversing the kitchen and pulling a broom out of a utility closet. His only acknowledgment of her was a nod of his head, as his mouth was too full to conjure a real response. Chi-Chi shook her head to herself and began a round of dusting before continuing, "Why are you up so early? I know you have exams later this week, but you also need to get a good night's rest."

Gohan glanced up, having swallowed another mouthful of cereal. Trying to convey the situation quickly so as to retain all of the study time possible, he spewed, "Well, I really couldn't sleep. I've had this King Furry thing on my mind, and so I got up to think about it, and then Bulma called about half-an-hour ago, and she's really mad at me because I don't have time to help her. By the way, she's apparently okay - she said something about Yajirobe kidnapping her, but I didn't get all of the details."

The puzzled look on his Mother's face reflected how he felt inside. "Yajirobe?" she inquired disbelievingly, stopping her broom for a moment to ponder this. "I always knew he was strange, but no more than any of your father's other acquaintances. So is she still in his custody? Is he holding her ransom for food or something?"

"I think that she would have mentioned being with Yajirobe if she still was, so I guess she escaped somehow. I don't really understand why he would target her, unless he is getting really desperate. He's never been an outright criminal save for hijacking cars, so I think it's a stretch to guess that he's holding her ransom." Gohan bit the tip of his thumb, contemplating the matter, before suggesting, "Unless maybe he's getting some sort of compensation from an outside source... It could connect to the King Furry case, as if somebody didn't want one of the world's greatest minds investigating. But if that's the case, I want to know how they knew she was even at the castle, seeing as my stealth tactics are unparalleled..."

After Gohan's ramblings trailed off, Chi-Chi affirmed, "Didn't you say that her near plane crash was covered by all of the media outlets, live?"

"Hmm, that is true..." Then, with pride in his voice, he said, "You know, Mom, if you got a television, you could have seen your oldest son saving the day in _real_ _time_ instead of just hearing about it afterwards... Pretty cool, huh?"

She rolled her eyes and retorted, "I would be even more proud if you would study hard, sleep properly, and do well in school so that you can get a job that _doesn't_ involve delinquent activities." She smiled at his incredulous expression. "Then, when you do make an income to support your aging mother, I _might_ consider investing in a television. How does that sound?"

"Fair enough, I guess. But before I get much further with that, I need to solve this King Furry kidnap case. Just on my own, without any hindrances. I doubt it'll take very long. I probably need to stop by Korin Tower, seeing as that's Yajirobe's primary residence now, and see if Korin knows anything - that cat almost never leaves, which is a good thing. I really wish that Dad and Goten would speak up, but it's like they've been brainwashed into doing Vegeta's bidding. I doubt that Goten will be complying anymore - not after peeing in his pants. That's really not like him, though... I've never known him to not be able to hold his bladder, not even when he was little."

"Even as a baby, he seemed to always wait until I was in the middle of changing him," Chi-Chi reminisced, not fond of having had to clean herself up after what should have been a simple and relatively clean task. "And then he would just smile up at me. And when I had Trunks over for a playdate, he would laugh when I got squirt, too. I tell you, both of those boys could not be more like their fathers..."

"I know; I remember," recalling that he had been the subject of Goten's abuse as well. But thinking of the pair brought a realization to his attention. "You know, I don't know what happened to Trunks yesterday. I forgot to keep an eye on his power level, seeing as I was essentially babysitting Bulma," he confessed, worry in his voice.

Chi-Chi twisted her mouth with dismay. "Bulma didn't mention anything?"

"No, she seemed too focused on her own predicament... I really hope he's fine."

"She's always been self-centered in that way. I could hardly believe it when she announced her pregnancy." Chi-Chi sighed before suggesting, "You could try calling her back. I know it's early, but if she called you even earlier, then that makes it okay. Right?"

"No, I think I'll just stop by Capsule Corp. on my way to Korin Tower. Maybe just a flyby - if I woke Bulma up, I doubt I'd hear the end of it." He leaned back on his stool and stretched his arms out after moving the bowl void of cereal from his lap to the countertop, unable to focus on studying at a time like this. "And I'd really like to avoid her at all costs... I just don't know what to do with her." He watched his mother transfer the bowl to the sink, deciding that it was time to take care of the pile of dishes that had accumulated overnight. Unfortunately for her, a Saiyan's appetite never stopped.

Gohan wondered whether he should ask his Mom about the discomfort that Bulma had been causing him. Despite her age, he couldn't deny her beauty, just as she seemingly couldn't. If he had asked, he may have received her accurate assumption that it was really an internal identity crisis that every woman that vain faces when she comes to a certain age, though he decided to direct the topic to his fiancée. "Videl's been so busy with everything going on in Satan City, and I wish I could bring her into this case - she'd know just what to do, being as tactical as she is."

"How long is she planning to continue with her juvenile activities? I used to fight, and at least for us humans, I know there's a time when it just isn't feasible anymore." Chi-Chi had begun wiping down the counters with a clean dish rag.

"Well, probably not until after the wedding..."

Chi-Chi looked up and stared her son intently in the eye, her interest piqued. "So is there a date yet?"

Gohan reddened under her scrutiny, having avoided this topic as much as possible. It was one that had been of much contention between the pair, and he knew that it would only light a fire. "Well, _no_, there's no exact date... But it'll probably be after I graduate..."

"After you _graduate_?" Chi-Chi shrieked, forcing her son to cower as she leaned forth with death in her eye. "That's _years_ from now! I'm going to be too old to pick any of my grandchildren up if you wait that long! I didn't even deprive your grandfather of that joy!"

"Mom..." the demi-Saiyan groaned, searching desperately for an escape. "Listen, it's starting to get light out - I'm gonna go check on Icarus before I leave." He shoved away from the countertop and stood up, blatantly ignoring his mother's insistences that he come back and talk this over. "Just don't move my textbooks, okay?" He doubted she heard him over her own yelling, and it was a wonder that she didn't wake anybody else in the household up. Everybody else, he supposed, had already learned to tune out her voice when she became enraged like this.

After escaping his mother's wrath by exiting the cottage, Gohan ambled around the side of it towards the vegetable patch. The sun hadn't quite peeked over the horizon, but its rays had already transformed the sky into a hazy purple, giving the demi-Saiyan enough light to maneuver about without tripping. He had worried about Icarus in the night because the dragon had hardly cried, but he was relieved to see its rib cage rising and collapsing in a rhythmic breathing pattern. He didn't mean to awaken the dragon, merely wanting to check on it, but his approach caused the creature to stir.

"Hey, Icarus, buddy," he called softly, kneeling down by the dragon's side as it turned its head to see him. It chirruped, though it made no other acknowledgment, so tired from the loss of blood it suffered. Gohan examined the bandages Chi-Chi had wrapped around its torso, tugging gently to ensure that they were wrapped tightly enough to apply even pressure to the wound but causing the dragon to moan in pain. "Sorry," Gohan whispered, instead choosing to stroke its face tenderly. "I've got a big day ahead of me. I'm going to figure out who did this to you, since you can't tell me." He sighed. "I wish we had a Senzu bean to give you... Maybe I can pick one up when I visit Korin, if the dry spell is over."

Icarus tried rolling over but faced a rush of pain while doing so. It wasn't often that the man devoted much attention to the dragon anymore, too occupied with schoolwork and dating and saving civilians, and Icarus was grateful for this moment. The time, however, came to an end all too soon as Gohan stood back up, called out a farewell, and jetted off from the spot.

Gohan considered stopping by Satan City to meet up with his bride-to-be, though he decided against it. Although he wanted to tell her of everything that had happened the day before, he knew that he needed to finish with this whole kidnapping business as soon as possible. She had probably seen his rescue on television yesterday, regardless, failing to congratulate him due to her own jealousy. He smirked. Between the two of them, there was always an unspoken competition to see who would get the most good publicity for the week - or at least he viewed it that way.

He sped overhead West City and felt what he supposed was Trunks' power level, lowered due to his likely being asleep. It wasn't even six o'clock in the morning, and with it being a Sunday, it was unsurprising for the boy to cherish the extra hours of dreaming.

So the demi-Saiyan continued from Mt. Paozu to West City and on to Korin Tower, the sky brightening all the way until the sun was cast behind him. He hoped that his mother had forgiven him for abandoning her, just as he hoped that Bulma had given up on this quest. Regardless of her smarts, she just wasn't cut out for a detective job. She was too stubborn to allow her opinion to be swayed by the evidence before her rather than what she already had up in her big head. Even he could admit that the evidence they had acquired was unconvincing, though he wondered, now that he was far beyond Capsule Corp., whether Trunks hadn't learned anything during his separate excursion, perhaps something that he didn't recognize as vital to the case. Desperate for clues, he postponed his trip to Korin Tower to whip back around to Bulma's residence, the sun now directly in his eyes.

Upon landing, he realized that Bulma's favorite vehicle - one that she and her father had designed - was gone from the driveway. He shook his head in disbelief, hoping the woman hadn't done anything rash, before walking across the lawn, punching in the code on the door, and striding in. He believed himself to be close enough to the owner of the estate to just walk right in. All of the Z Fighters were akin to family, particularly after what they had all endured together.

In order to reach Trunks' bedroom, he had to walk through the grand living room where Vegeta was seated before the television, watching a morning talk show. The Saiyan glared at him and sneered, "Oh yes, Bulma's right that the security here is _so_ tight. Just any old buffoon can walk right in as if he _owns_ the place." Gohan pouted as Vegeta demanded, this time seriously, "What are you doing here, boy?"

Miffed that even at twenty years of age the Saiyan refused to acknowledge his manhood, Gohan explained, "I'm going to go check up on Trunks."

"Is it about that Mighty Mask case?" Vegeta inquired knowingly, though Gohan offered no response. "If it is, then you're out-of-luck. It seems that both you and my _beloved_ wife have the crazy notion that you will not only locate the dog king, but also find out who kidnapped him. If I'm correct in my assumption, as I always am, then know that you will only leave feeling downcast and dejected, just as you probably did when none of the other children wanted to play with you on the playground."

"I'll have you know that plenty of kids wanted to hang out with me," Gohan retorted angrily, though Vegeta laughed.

"My, it seems I've touched a nerve." Gohan's cheeks reddened with shame. "Well, go on and waste all of your time if you'd like. It's not as though it's anything precious." At this, Vegeta turned back around to face the two men on television, but not without adding, "And _thanks_ for rescuing my wife yesterday. She really has a _thing_ for heroes, giving her hot flashes and wanton desires. She's woman enough that she could make a man out of even _you_, Kakarot's innocent, little brat." The embarrassment burned Gohan's ears, forcing the man to grimace uneasily. But Vegeta just barked with laughter, proceeding to ignore the demi-Saiyan.

Gohan fled from the room, feeling as awkward as he ever had and reconsidering his decision to stop by Capsule Corp. That short conversation with Vegeta, if it could even be called that, had inflicted great pain upon his self-esteem, and he wondered if he was even up to this elusive mission of rescuing King Furry. Perhaps everything that went wrong with the investigation the day before had been his fault. He had simply rushed into the castle without creating a detailed plan of action, something that would have better utilized his partner's brains. And it had probably been foolish to even search the scene of the crime. If Vegeta _was_ the culprit - and just talking to the Saiyan affirmed that suspicion - then it was fruitless to look for evidence in a traditional way. Vegeta was anal retentive enough to ensure that no clue would be left behind, so it would probably be best to either focus on locating the king or harass his cohorts. Since his dad and Gotten weren't speaking up, he knew that Yajirobe was the last one that he knew about, justifying his hunch to drop by Korin Tower.

He felt reenergized, convinced that that he had been on the right track before - it would still be beneficial, though, to hear Trunks' testimony. It could be possible that the tyke, unrestrained by a human's limitations, could have unknowingly ventured upon an important fact.

Gohan tapped lightly on the boy's door, though just as he had suspected, Trunks was still asleep. He pressed a button to the side of it, revealing a very untidy room, toys and the like being strewn across the floor. Gohan smiled, recalling how he had never been allowed the pleasure of having somebody else pick up after him - his mother would have allowed no such thing, regardless of the fact that it was often textbooks that were scattered around. He tiptoed his way across the landscape of fallen empires and destroyed battlefields, hovering over Trunks before nudging him awake.

He was shocked as Trunks jerked away from him, held out his two arms defensively, and mumbled without even having opened his eyes, "You'd better keep away. I'm a force to reckon with."

"Hey, bud, it's just Gohan," the man reassured him, and though it took a moment, Trunks finally came to. He blinked his eyes open and looked on in shock as Gohan explained, "I was just wondering what happened to you yesterday, when you got away from your mom and me. You might have found something that could help in locating King Furry."

"Nothing," Trunks spat sourly after a few seconds, not enjoying being woken up this early in the day. But Gohan was unconvinced.

"Listen, if your dad threatened you to keep quiet, it's okay. I'll protect you. Although I don't look it, I'm sure that I can take him on." Gohan gave a smile of reassurance to back his claim.

Trunks, however, just shook his head. "It's not that. It's just that I really didn't find anything." He yawned and sat up, rubbing his eyes while doing so. "After I ditched you and Mom, I decided that I would sneak into the castle. So I flew into the top window, thinking that King Furry's bedroom was up there. Instead, all there was was fat, old Yajirobe."

"Yajirobe? _Really_?" He crossed his arms, pondering this piece of information. "And you're sure it was the highest window?" Trunks nodded, watching the older Demi-Saiyan cup his chin in one hand in thought. "What happened after that?"

"Dunno," Trunks admitted bluntly with a shrug. "My guard was down, so I guess Yajirobe knocked me out, or something embarrassing like that. Whatever he did, I fell into the deepest sleep ever."

"Did you see your mom up there?"

"No, but I do remember waking up a little when my dad was carrying me home. I think my mom was in his arms, too, but I'm not really sure. I just looked up and saw my dad looking straight ahead, and I saw that we were flying. I fell right back asleep, though." He yawned and concluded, "This is the first time that I've been awake. I had a dream about fighting off some mummies, but that's about it."

Gohan narrowed his eyes upon hearing this inconclusive account, but he immediately lightened up as he offered, "Hey, Trunks, how would you like to show me exactly which room you found Yajirobe in? We'll have to stop by Korin Tower really quickly, but then we can get right on the road."

"Awesome!" Trunks beamed, eager to continue with this adventure. However, a thought occurred to him, pushing him to comment sadly, "It's not the same without Goten, though."

"We found him," Gohan assured the boy, bringing a smile to his face again, "but we'll have to leave him out of this. It's a long story, so just trust me when I say that this is for the better. Your father did something with Goten, so it's our job to shine justice on the truth."

Trunks wrinkled his nose and whined, "Come on, Gohan, stop with the Saiyaman stuff. It's really dorky, and I'm gonna get a headache if I have to listen to that all day."

"Oh, sorry," Gohan murmured abashedly, not even recognizing that his words were something that sounded even remotely like his alter-ego. Videl had gotten on to him about his heroic spiels, fed up with them after being forced to listen to him practice his lines several times a week. She simply did not understand the difficulties in being a superhero. He had to be larger-than-life to live up to his title as the world's strongest man, whereas she could get by with just being a normal, young adult - or at least as normal as any woman could be who could take on men three times her size.

The thought of his fiancée made him feel warm inside, which in turn made his blood cold. He couldn't help but be reminded of Vegeta's words, of heroes making Bulma all 'hot and bothered', or something to that extent. Did that Saiyan really have nothing better to do than to kidnap dogs and practice his cruelty on unsuspecting vigilantes?


End file.
